Fiddler's Green
by Greek-Warrior-Princess
Summary: "Does such a place really exist?" she asked with a sparkle in her eyes, "A paradise free of pain and suffering?" Her mother shook her head, smiling sadly, "I don't know, honey." The girl sighed: "I wish there could be..." Set X2. John/OC.
1. The Allegory of the Cave

**A/N: Welcome, welcome! And this is another one of my fabulous stories! It's just an experiment, i'll tell you that so don't expect too much. Okay, so this is a new idea i've been playing with the past couple of days. I don't yet exactly how it will turn out, but i'll let you be the judge of that.**

**I'll explain a few things before you'd get to reading:**

**1. This is an OC story, with a John Allerdyce/OC pairing. I don't know how explicit the romance is going to be, oh and the rating might change as well. It depends on my mood i guess:).**

**2. All the canon characters from the second X-men movie will get a role and i won't change their personalities or background in my OC's favor. She'll just blend in with the whole plot of X2.**

**3. Like i said, this is just a lil' experiment of mine to find out if i can write in the universe of Xavier and his school (and yes, my OC is gonna enter the school, sigh)**

**4. It may sound like a little cliche what i'm doing: a girl going to the X-mansion and then a romance with Pyro... I'm sorry that is sounds that way, but i promise it's going to be something entirely different than you've ever read. Trust me. Even i have surprised myself with this great idea! Yeah, i'm purty arrogant, i know. Anyhow...**

**5. uhmm... oh yeah. This fic is kinda... _deep... _don't be surprised if you find several philosophic passages. I hope you will understand what i'm writing, even i have trouble understanding it sometimes:p. Tell me what you think of those monologues, if they're too much or whatever.**

**6. I had trouble deciding the genre of this fic, but it's definitely a fantasy/romance/mystery/tragedy/hurt/comfort kind of ordeal. Adventure and action also. The mystery part may be big in the beginning, but that's my intension. I'm not gonna give everything away in one go.**

**7. Also, be warned for things like death, mental illnesses, violence and maybe some sexual explicitness (don't know about that last one yet).**

**Alright, so now that those formalities are out of the way i'd like to wish you fun reading.**

**Oh, before i forget, the chapters are going to go slow, so that i can introduce my character slowly to you. Step by step you'll get to know more about her, so please be patient with me. You won't regret it.**

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><p>The Allegory of the Cave<p>

...

There are always certain things in life we cannot control; things that are out of our hands; things that we often simply cannot understand – or in most cases that we _refuse_ to understand nor accept. The latter grabs my attentions. The deliberate choice to dismiss any eccentric contemplation has always been a shameful weakness of mankind. I out of all people would know.

But let's not make this about me. Let's concentrate on humanity in general.

Where was I? Oh, yes of course: The reason for this unfortunate fact.

Let me explain it to you.

The human mind is a complex system, which I often have trouble understanding. And I'm sure I'm not the only one. Yet the brain is probably the most vital piece in almost every puzzle. Think about it. Everything we know has been influenced, one way or another, by human hands, and therefore by the human intellect. But why can't we manipulate, or even control, that same incredible psyche itself? Including our own as that of others? And why do some people reject change in favor of familiarity? This question has me thinking.

Yesterday I came across this book in the library. It is called _Book VII of the Republic _by Plato. A certain chapter in this magnificent piece of ancient literature opened my eyes.

I don't know if it even interests you or if you even want to hear my small talk, but I'm going to say it anyways. Philosophy is the key to understanding the world, after all.

Well then, where do I begin? At the beginning perhaps? Yes.

A cave. This is the comparison Socrates makes: a primal cave and the human mentality. In the book, I read, Plato describes a conversation that had taken place between Socrates and a young friend of his, Glaucon. Here, the greatest philosopher of all times explains to his follower what steers the thoughts and decision of men.

In this cave, in which we only see a mirror image of reality, we sit with our back to the only exit, a blinding light casting shadows on the wall in front of us. Often these are misshapen and misunderstood, but we watch them nonetheless. We watch them flicker and dance over the uneven surface of stone, focusing only on what we see. We do not observe what lies behind us: an opening, or escape, that leads to paradise. This heavenly place, free of inner struggles, gives a clear perspective of human affairs. It is the world that shows us all. Where the laws of physics do not apply and our spirits are liberated to wander every rational thought and doubt it above all.

Still, most of us are too stubborn to adjust our ideas, even when logic punches us in the face full force. Yet we aren't hopeless. There are a few chosen ones who will turn around – look over their shoulder – and discover this truth. They leave the familiar safety of the cave behind and step into the outside world: the dangerous _unknown_. This bold move comes with great risk: Being different, sticking out. It is something mankind has always found unacceptable an intolerable. And although the prize of separation seems high, experiencing disclosure is worth such a sacrifice.

Indeed, exactly that is what awaits the chosen ones behind the door of the cave.

Socrates refers to the philosophers are the ones that reach this ultimate goal. The love they share for searching wisdom brings them to the critical truth.

_Who are we?_

_What is the purpose of our existence?_

_Where does the world come from? _

It can be frightening to find the answers to these questions, but those who do, who risk jeopardizing their position in society, return to their fellow men full of insight. _They_, regrettably, are still locked up inside the cage that their own limited mind provides. The philosophers try to convince them to turn around and face their unawareness. To no avail?

Living in a world of relative ignorance is comfortable and most common in the past, present and the many times to come. Yet it isn't satisfying. It never brings that accomplished feeling. As Plato claimed: _Ignorance, the root and stem of every evil._

Even with an accusation as strong as ignorance fired in their direction, the silent watchers choose to remain… well that: ignorant. They are afraid to be disapproved by the public. The general opinion means more to them than the promise of marvelous knowledge. Refusing to leave the security of the group, they decline the offer to step out of their comfort zone and to think outside the box. So, to no avail.

Many would deny this very fact, declaring it is foolish to believe that ignorance will be the downfall of mankind. In retrospect, when you don't know something, you cannot miss it, nor can you question it. Still, people as fabulous as Socrates and Plato state the differ.

Well, if that isn't something to think about, I don't know what is.

But of course, this is all just a matter of opinion. I'll tell you mine in due time.

The question that keeps me busy these days is: _why are people afraid to be different?_

If you're wondering the same thing, accept my offer and take my hand.

Let me lead you down this path of discovery. And perhaps you'll come to understand why everything is the way it is.

Whoever reads this will probably wonder who the hell I think I am.

Well, I haven't really found the reason to my existence yet, but I'm eager to learn.

I just wish to see the truth, and, like Socrates, I want to share my knowledge with the rest of the world.

I'll show you what I mean.

Sincerely,

M.P.

...

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><p><strong>AN: This was the prologue kind of. I hoped you like it, even just a little bit. I know it is a little far-fetched and perhaps annoying and too much intellectual shit, but i honestly find this stuff interesting myself.**

**Please grant me the honor of your opinion? I am very very eager to discover what you think. Reviews are my favorite thing in the whole wide world:). No just kidding, but i'll give you a few reasons as to why you _should_ review: 1) I'll update sooner. 2) With critique i can improve myself and 3) with compliments i get a confident boost. 4) It's just a way of letting know you actually care a little and lastly 5) if you take the time to read, why not take to time to leave a tiny little review? I'm just saying;).**

**Ps. I'm still continuing my other X-men story, don't worry. I've just got a lil' writer's block i'm dealing with at the moment, but all will be fine.**

**Good night! I'll update the first real chapter tomorrow or perhaps even tonight.**


	2. To Been Seen

**A/N: All ready, so here's the first real full chapter. I'm sorry for the wait, but i just wasn't quite satisfied with what i had written 2 days ago, so i changed a few things. The result may appear a little boring, but i promise it will get better. I don't know yet when the canon characters will come into play, maybe the next chapter. Further, i'd like to hear what your thoughts are after you've read this chapter. What are your suspicions regarding my OC? I'd like to know if it's close to what i had in mind:). This may sound a little weird but i'm just curious.**

**Thank you to kittyqueen101 and wolves-rain-chick for reviewing. I'm glad you found it interesting enough to review! **

**Enjoy this next update.**

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><p>To Be Seen<p>

It was a warm day, midsummer, in Traverse City, Michigan. The sun, bright and beautiful, casted a fine glow on the window screens of cars driving by the street. The trees were in full growth – fresh, green leaves moving in the soft breeze – standing on both sides of the asphalt. The sky was a spotless blue, with downy clouds floating at an immense slow pace. There were several people walking on the pavements, either mothers with children, men in business suits or loners that were occupying themselves with reading, listening to the headphones in their ears or just plainly walking.

There was much to see.

Phone boots stood here and there, as did trashcans, parking meters and lampposts. Yellow cab doors opened and closed while letting costumers in, all kinds of shops were lined up near the sidewalk and a blond woman just turned the key to enter an apartment. She disappeared through the door and right then a pram carrying a small child rolled over the paving stones, a melting ice cream soiling the baby's chubby little fingers. It licked happily, it's face and mouth a sticky mess. A smiling female pushed it forward, dark sunglasses protecting her eyes from the sun and a wavy skirt baring her legs. A black dog barked loudly at the passing pair and pulled at its leash; the male owner commanding the animal to calm down. He apologized to the mother, speaking with mild regret. And the woman dismissed him with faint shaking of her head as she told him it wasn't a problem.

An elderly couple exited a store, holding full plastic bags in their hands. Young kids were playing with taws in an alley and others were cycling, doing tricks and racing. One of the older boys with a blue cap on almost collided with a man hurrying to his work. The phone in his hand was forgotten momentarily as he yelled words of insult at the carelessness of the biker. His bold head gleamed in the sunlight and his large belly bulged out of his too-tight pants. He pushed passed the boy angrily, continuing his way. A few more skaters went by: a teenager on rollerblades and two guys skateboarding. Two men on the corner near a hotdog stall were talking and laughing, eating lunch and enjoying the warmth of the sun.

It wouldn't have been easy to spot the young female making her way down the road, ignoring the herds of much more interesting people outside.

She seemed perfectly normal, blending in with the crowd perfectly.

Her long hair was a bright cupper color, with bronze and red flowing in a fountain of sweet curls down her back. The sunlight reflected in the warm tints, creating an aura around her head. Hairpins fastened a few locks away from her eyes, which looked rather messily put in. A worn brown bag clung to her left shoulder, the strap shoved in place by her hand as she adjusted so it wouldn't fall.

The girl had a fair skin, which had been kissed by the sun from being outdoors a lot, and a network of light freckles covered almost every inch of visible flesh – especially her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. The short sleeves of the flowery dress she was wearing left her arms exposed and numerous of brownish bracelets decorated her wrists. Her eyes were hidden behind black shades, copying many of the other Michiganders, and leather sandals were secured around her feet.

She walked with an air of grace, but there was a certain insecurity about the way her shoulders were pulled up slightly, in a tensed manner. Her arms and neck seemed stiff as well.

All in all there didn't seem too much going on for her, besides the fact she was strolling down the pavement in a soft pace.

She couldn't have been older than eighteen and although her face seemed youthful, the expression in her eyes wasn't. They displayed something stern and prudent. Way too much of both for her age.

She was deep in thought as she walked by the friendly mother and the baby buggy. The aggressive dog didn't even seem to faze her while it barked angry vocals at her. So the man holding the leash never gave her a second glance, instead tugging roughly at the pet's collar in order to shut it up. In a slight bow she walked past them, rather listening to the noises of traffic and avoiding a confrontation.

The sun felt warm on her skin and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as it fell in front of her face.

The skater boys rolled by her in the opposite direction. Catcalls were aimed at her as the hormonal teenagers checked her out. A slight blush appeared on her face, but other than that she ignored the immature behavior, lowering her head a little and picking up her pace.

The angry businessman could be heard fuming on his cell phone, but the girl had already reached the corner of the street.

Here, she saw the hotdog cart. Tilting her chin, she hesitated for a moment. The two males standing by the stall weren't paying any attention to her and she was distracted by a red car that just took a right turn next to her. The tires rotated over the asphalt with ease as the driver was visible through the open standing window.

After she had arrived at the cart, she ordered a hotdog. The seller smiled gracious at her with 'Yes, ma'am.' He handed her the bread and sausage, ketchup and mustard coating the top. She paid in cash and thanked him.

"Have a good day, sweetheart."

She scowled a little to herself at the pet name given to her. But she decided to let it go, blaming the man's behavior on his Italian background.

And she began her walk again, taking a bite of food in the process. She crossed the street then, hurrying as to not hold up traffic. The knee-length dress fluttered around her thighs and the long beaded necklace bounced against her chest as she ran. Upon reaching the curbstone, she halted again, letting her gaze rest on a newspaper shop to her right.

A group of men passed her and greeted her kindly. She only smiled from behind her sunglasses, not meeting any of their eyes.

The singing of birds mixed with the sounds of engines roaring and people chattering as the girl moved fluently to the booth. Her pupils were fixed on one of the many papers hanging on a rack. She tipped her head to the side slightly, studying the picture on the front.

Her fingers reached out and took a black and white broadsheet down. She opened the paper to take a better look at the front page. The photograph printed on it grabbed her interest.

The grey-haired male staring up at her wasn't familiar to her, but she did recognize the white building next to him. The headline declared there had been an attack on the White House the previous night, but no real victims had been claimed. A frown appeared on her forehead when she read the article fully.

_... all the world leaders had been present at the celebrations being held in the gardens of the presidential house and it was a complete chaos when came to ears that a terrorist attack was put in action… this was clearly a protest and statement of the mutant race... _

She removed the glasses on her nose, pushing it over her curls to rest on the top of her head. A flat expression on her face and her now revealed brown eyes big and wide.

… _fortunately the president stayed unharmed and any damage to government property had been prevented…_

Skipping a few lines, she came to the part she wanted.

… _the attack had been led by the mutant activist Eric Lenssher, better known as Magneto, who is now in custody for further questioning…_

She blinked, trying hard to remember if she had heard that name before.

… _many claim a fair trial would be out of place, as the man is now considered an enemy of the state and most hated criminal # 1. His agitating behavior and warmongering has become the face of the movement of mutant rights…_

No, it didn't sound familiar.

… _as of now he stays imprisoned in a highly secured and guarded plastic cell, never to terrorize the American people again… A deeper investigation is under way to clarify the specific motives behind the attack… several accomplices have fled the scene, but the justice system will find them sooner or later…_

As she licked her lips, her interest grew.

…_revealed as the mutant gene… undoubtedly is a danger to the national peace… the mutant registration act should therefore be pushed forward now even more than ever..._

"Mutant registration act?" She mumbled to herself, fascinated by the piece of writing.

The half-done hotdog was forgotten as she tried to hold the newspaper in one hand with the pages remaining readable, even when the wind messed with it.

"Hey! Are you gonna pay for that, or what?" A voice snapped her out of her trance.

She gasped a little, looking in the direction of the man. "Uhm… no…" She shook her head, quickly storing the paper back in its place. "Sorry, sir." The front page was missing.

The owner of the stall grunted, "You either buy or get the fuck away. Ya hear me?"

A swift nod.

"Right, now beat it."

The girl sighed, arching a ginger brow. "Jeez, someone's grumpy." She muttered so he wouldn't hear, but the corners of her mouth curved: the article was fumbled together in her right hand.

After stuffing it inside one of the patch pockets of her dress, she stalked away from the shop. The bag hung on her back and her shades were back in place again.

She dumped the rest of her hotdog into the trash. Her appetite had disappeared for whatever reason; all she could think about was the news she had just received.

Minutes later a grand building doomed up in the distance, which was her destination.

The soft yellow structure was old-fashioned and decorated beautifully at the frontage. The windows were elongated and lined up in pairs of three in the stone walls. It was at least four stories high, as far as one could be seen from the outside, excluding the little red turrets standing on top of the bluish roof tiles. A grand entrance was at the end of the wide driveway. Neatly cut grass surrounded the clinic, with a few flowerbeds here and there. A dozen large trees were located near the foyer and several cars had been parked there as well.

She was walking up the driveway, in the direction of the thick double doors. Her hair swept around her face as an afternoon breeze brushed past her. It didn't take long before she had reached the doorknob and entered the enormous complex without giving a second glance at the sign just outside.

_Traverse City Regional Psychiatric Hospital._

The inside of the hospital looked quite expensive, with shining marble floors. Her footsteps echoed through the long hallway as she wasted no time and walked straightforwardly to the counter opposite of the entrance. A golden chandelier hung from the ceiling and on either sides of the corridor paintings decorated the clean walls. A few people were passing through, some in wheelchairs others not.

She simply ignored the fact some of them made spastic movements with their heads or screamed loudly for no particular reason in no particular language.

With her hand around the band of her backpack, she took the glasses off her nose and stuffed it inside the bag.

"Good afternoon, Liv." The woman behind the reception greeted her, "How are you today?"

"Fine, thank you." She answered curtly, smiling. Her feet had taken a slower pace in front of the counter.

"I'm glad to hear that." A sadness was in her voice, but the blond quickly changed the subject: "But of course you're not here to have small talk with me, are you? I'll let go on with your business."

Liv nodded a little, flashing another small smile. "I'm sure you're very busy yourself."

The other female chuckled, "Yes, I am as a matter of fact. Don't believe me?" The joke was at the surface.

"Of course I do." She laughed, "What makes you think any different?"

"Oh, dunno maybe it's–" A phone started ringing.

The woman groaned, "See what I mean?" She made an exaggerated annoyed face, taking the horn in her hand and addressing the person on the other side, her long red nails in contrast with the white plastic.

The smile on Liv's face never faded. She got the hint. "Good day, Lucia." She turned and went on her way.

"Oh! – hold on a second, dear –" Lucia put her hand on the speaker, "Give her my greetings, will ya?" She threw at Liv. "I haven't seen her lately."

The rolling of her eyes, but still she waved with her hand in acknowledgement. "Sure thing."

The receptionist stared at the girl's retreating back. A sigh escaped her lips as she thought of the patient Liv was about to visit. The phone completely forgotten, she was startled when she heard yelling close to her ear. "I'm so sorry, sir!" She apologized, immediately engaging in conversation again, her eyes focused on the computer in front of her.

Liv had already disappeared through a glass revolving door when Lucia looked up again, so she continued her work.

A calm lady sat in the corner of the recreation room, her head turned to the window while her blank eyes looked intently at the courtyard outside. And Liv was watching her from her spot on the other side of the large space.

She was breathing silently to herself, her eyelids quite heavy and features neutral.

The woman had light blue, striped pajamas on, with a red bathrobe over it. Her hair was very short and chaotically cut, as if someone had used a razor on it. The color was recognizable though: reddish, copper. Her face was stoic without any type of emotion visible. Deep wrinkles framed her eyes and forehead and a implacable tiredness hung in the air around her. But there was also some kind of strain, which made people stay away from the 'crazy woman by the window'. Her thin frame also indicated that she wasn't in the best physical state either.

Liv went to sit by her.

"Hey, mom."

The woman didn't react.

"I brought you the book I promised to take with me last time." She spoke carefully, pulling a children's book from her bag, after which she placed it on the table in between them. "I figured one of the nurses will probably want to read it to you." A quick glance from underneath her eyebrows, "But the doctors said that things from your past might help you remember who you are." Her tone was deliberately gentle and kind, as if she was talking to a six-year-old. "You used to read it to me when I was young–"

She blinked a few times and finally, slowly, tore her eyes away from the window. But she only gave the girl – who's spine was still bend forward – opposite of her a fleeting look, her gaze instead resting on the book.

"Lucia said hi." Liv informed her out of the blue, "You know, the woman from the reception? She's really nice." A soft grin tugged at the corners of her mouth, "_Different…_ but nice nonetheless."

"Mom?" Liv said when nothing happened for half a minute. "Mom… they're not coming."

The other people in the room were all muttering quietly to each other, but the voices seemed of so little importance when Liv saw her mother this way. It was almost too much to bear.

"Don't you recognize me?" The question came out as a restrained sob.

The patient was looking at her own hands now, studying the scarred fingers and incredibly short nails. Suddenly, she raised her head, in quite a fast movement for her doing, and her features lit up.

Liv saw a lively sparkle in her parent's orbs and smiled back. "Mom, it's me–" She went to extend her arm, with the intension to touch her hand over the table, but someone disturbed their conversation.

"Meta Petterson? It's time for your medication."

A nurse walked up to the pair from behind Liv and instantly she moved back in her seat. Her mother hadn't been smiling at her, but at the pudding that would always come right after her dose of pills.

Liv sighed and sagged in the chair a little. After all this time she still didn't remember her own blood. Two years had gone by since the accident. Two years of Liv trying desperately to help her mother overcome her mental illness, but to no avail.

She struggled against the tears that were building up behind her eyes, swallowing and biting her bottom lip gently. The lump in the throat caused a pressure on her chest.

As the nurse gave Misses Petterson her tablets, Liv rose from her chair suddenly.

"Are you leaving already?" She asked with raised brows.

Liv only nodded, "Yeah, I've gotta be home b'fore dinner." She swung her bag over her shoulder and adjusted her clothes. Trying frantically to keep her face composed, the girl added: "See ya on Tuesday."

"Liv?" The staff worker called after her, stopping her in her tracks.

After she had turned around slowly, eyes watery from sadness, she looked at the other woman insecurely and slightly upset.

"You know this is not your fault, right?"

She casted a look at the ground.

"It's all in her head. There's nothing you can do to change that."

A short silence followed, in which the dark-skinned nurse waited Liv's respond patiently.

After taking a deep breath, she shook her head indistinctly. "This is not about me."

The older female smiled sadly, "Oh, sweetheart–"

"No–" She interrupted, "Don't even–" Tears threatened to fall, trembling on the edge of her lashes, "Just mind your own business." Her voice trembled as it dropped almost to a whisper.

"Every Tuesday and Saturday, right before you come in, she goes to sit by the window – the one with a clear view on the courtyard." A pause, then: "Sometimes she waits for over two hours for you to arrive. It always brings a smile to her face: the sight of you walking up the driveway." She smiled to prove that point, "It gives her great joy, Liv. You don't realize what you mean to her. She's always waiting for you to come. It's all that keeps her occupied."

Liv stared at the nurse for a few seconds with a clean expression, but then wrinkles appeared in her forehead as she frowned. A strange huff left her mouth then. "She's not waiting for _me_." With that, she left the room, exiting through the revolving door while angrily wiping a tear from her cheek.

Liv leaned with her temple against the cool glass of the bus, her eyes focused on nothing in particular. The outside world moved behind the window as the bus was driving, sunlight cascading on her face.

She was sitting in the back, two rows before the last one. Her elbow was popped up against the rim sticking from the side of the vehicle to her left, her hand filled with her cheek. A cheerlessness was about her, but she was no longer crying nor was any other sign of sadness present on her features. The blankness had returned and remained there the whole three-hour-journey home.

Her thoughts wandered as she reopened all of the old wounds situated in the corners of her mind. She was dead tired when she finally stepped off the bus at the coach stop; glad at the same time at the vision of the warmth of her bed.

The door of her bedroom swung closed with the flick of her wrist and she dropped her bag unceremoniously on the floor. After kicking off her shoes, she let her weak body fall onto the mattress behind her.

Her hair was a copper and bronze mess of curls, tumbled about the bed around her head like an aura. She gazed up at the plain ceiling above, arms and legs limp and bend at uncomfortable angles.

And suddenly the face of the old man in the newspaper came to the front of her mind, the one responsible for the horrible attempt to murder all the world's leaders. He hadn't succeeded, for whatever reason. His plans had backfired and damaged the image mutants had in society: exactly the opposite of what he had wanted.

Destiny hadn't been on Erik Lenssher's side.

But apparently it wasn't on hers either.

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><p><strong>AN: That's it for now. I hope you enjoyed. Criticism is always welcome, so are compliments or any other ideas and thoughts. I will update if i get some response. And if i don't i'll still continue to write:p. But maybe post it a little later. Goodnight!**


	3. Mirror Image

**A/N: Alreadyyy! So here's an update! I'm so sorry it took so long but i was just twistin' n turnin' with this chapter cause i didn't get it right. Right now i don't know if it's good but i'd like to hear your opinion either way. It may be a little shocking at first, or strange/weird/annoying... i don't know... but please don't flame me! This is an experiment of my writing abilities. just keep that in mind.**

**Oh, and also remember that my first language isn't english, so mistakes could be present! just sayin'!**

**Okay, on with the show! Enjoy.**

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><p>Mirror Image<p>

_Fire_.

Angry, red flames everywhere.

Then there was smoke.

Thick, suffocating smoke that created a dark curtain of imprisonment.

Heat smoldered the wooden boards of the floor away.

A constant rustling in her ears, and nothing else.

Fear… Blind panic... Numbness…

The blaze was approaching. Dangerous and merciless. It wouldn't take long.

Trapped between impenetrable walls of inferno.

Pain… Helplessness… Torture…

_Fire_.

And that was all.

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><p>An excruciating scream tore through the once peaceful silence in the large house. It echoed between the nicely decorated walls, waking every single person inside with a startle from their comfortable slumber.<p>

The disruption only lasted a few seconds but the harmony had been permanently disturbed.

The woman who had been sleeping on the first floor shot awoke abruptly, sitting upright in the king-sized bed. Next to her she heard an annoyed groan. "Not again." The voice was muffled by the sheets that were pulled over the man's head.

She slid out of the bed slowly and rubbed the tiredness from her eyes. "Be right back." She said.

Her husband only grunted noncommittally, turning away from her on his side and going to sleep again.

Moonlight poured into the long hallway through a gap between the curtains as the woman slandered in the direction of the horrifying screech. A chill crept from her cold feet to her whole being. Her nightgown wasn't providing her of any warmth and the wooden floor was always freezing during this time of hour.

The clock in the hall struck two when she passed it.

A moment later her hand twisted the doorknob carefully, opening the white door. Three letters were pasted on the smooth surface at eyelevel, in graceful writing: ~_Liv~_.

It closed behind her with a soft click.

The room was pitch-black. The outlines of the furniture were barely perceptible as thick draperies covered the two grand windows. Her eyes had trouble adjusting to the impenetrable darkness, so she turned on the lamp she remembered stood on a nearby table. Instantly a warm glow lit up the room, casting oddly-shaped shadows on the green-colored walls.

She noticed the vacant bed; the covers thrown open in a hurry she couldn't quite understand.

"Honey, where are you?" The question came out as a hoarse whisper.

Silence...

It frightened Georgina Ramirez.

Her heartbeat thumbed loudly in her ears; her bare limps suddenly feeling heavy and strained.

She regarded the room for a minute: the room that belonged to a girl full of mysteries.

It had been a little less than two years ago when she had first met her. Back then she was a scared, fragile teenager, with hollow, empty eyes and a bone-chilling past to match. Georgina realized in that moment – with just a brief look into those cheerless eyes – it would take a lot of effort on her part to make this traumatized child feel at home. But her hard work had paid off. She had gotten better, more open, and even happy to some extent. What that happiness meant was unknown to her.

The girl stayed rather introvert, spoke only when spoken to and shrunk into herself most of the time. She seemed at peace though, having – wondrously – given her pain a place in her mentally instable condition.

Still, on several occasions, the true depth of her pain would resurface. Mostly in the form of nightmares. Those damned nightmares remained an everlasting factor in her daily life.

And the past few weeks they were only getting worse, along with the unexplainable behavior–

A quiet little sob pulled the Puerto Rican woman from her trail of thoughts.

"Liv...?" She looked underneath the bed, only to find the dark space empty.

A frown appeared on her face as she ran a hand through her black hair, moving her messy manes away from her eyes. This was the first time Liv was actually hiding from her and she had trouble finding her hiding place.

Looking around again, she heard another sniff followed by soft cry. It came from behind the closed-door.

Liv watched with bated breath as the double doors that had protected her from the flames creaked open gently.

Expecting to be attacked by the Monster of fire, she tumbled even further into the world permissible Darkness, named _Salvus_ (safety in Latin) – a _voluntary_ decision. Perhaps that's what made it diving, not falling. It was as terrifying as thrilling to go in that state of mind, but that's exactly what she kept reminding herself: it was temporarily and as long as she was in control she could return to reality when she felt the need to. The significance of that 'reality' was debatable in her opinion. Yet in situations like this – where she found herself drowning and thrashing more and more frequently – she knew it was in her better interest to stay _on the other side_. That way she would be safe. Or, better yet, they would be.

The mirror glass of _Salvus_ was usually perfect, untainted and pure. It was her only protection against the Monster. An entrance, or a window to the real world, so to speak, like binoculars to look over the ocean to spot lighthouses in the distance, or that tiny whole located in hotel room doors, so one could spy. The idea was the same; not the purpose. In it, she could see everything clear as crystal as they were, as they came. It was strong but not invulnerable.

Generally, she watched lazily, with closed eyes: A reflection of events that weren't of the terrestrial kind. Only colors that danced in a sensual rhythm. _Emotions_. Mostly in red and orange colors. She could always return to the Darkness, the falling, when she wanted to. She had every opportunity to turn away but often she didn't.

Now, it was too much.

Her face screwed up in concentration to ban the overwhelming feeling of being squashed in the smallest of fissures; of being torn between two worlds, both fighting for dominance. _Interbellum_, the period between wars, she had called this (the irony just that); the mirror was the gateway. Mostly there was no clear separation of where reality ended and _Salvus_ began, or the other way around. When the Monster became irresistible, she would let go of reality, _Realtà_, and welcome _Salvus_, with its empty, undisputable shelter, per open arms: a warm embrace of long lost friends.

The mirror wasn't a façade or pretense of what she wanted to see. It was what she _needed_ to see in those moments, from a distance, keeping all the horrid at bay outside the fragile structure of glass. The _Sensi_ equaled that horrid. All of them. Only Logic, who wasn't a Virtue, or a Vice, or any distinctive emotion in general, may enter the cage. That's why she admired philosophers so much. They understood the essence of Logic. It's what made her write with a clear head, free of treacherous clouds (emotions) that tended to mess with her view, her perceptions. But of course, only the bad were even close to crushing glass.

The light that entered the closet blinded her and made her flinch away; the fire was real this time! It was close… closer… it was coming for her… hot… burning… no… no more… too close! Stop! Go away!

The mirror was on the edge of shattering. Cracks sprung into the glass. _This would end up badly,_ Liv thought, trying to stay focused on the mirror. _If only life wasn't so cruel!_

Georgina knelt by the trembling jumble of distress, placing a tender hand on her shoulder.

Blue was reflected in the mirror. A faint blue, and then grey. That were the colors that belonged to 'Gina, she recognized, but somehow she wasn't relieved by the discovery. The colors were split in fragments in the mirror, and so her sensory perception, including her visual faculty, were, too.

It was always hard to hold onto her consciousness when her vision was bungled this much; she always wanted to let go of the thin rope that connected her with earth and fall – just fall. No mirror, no reality, no nothing. Just Darkness. Just _Salvus_.

And giving in was the easy way out. Sometimes she despised her own weakness.

Georgina wished she could take over her misery. She was too young for such punishing pains. She deserved to be a normal kid. Faith had other plans.

Calm, trustworthy, reserved, she read as if it were a true language. _Her interference won't please them! The Sensi will not be satisfied! _A Centurion had to listen to its troops.

Georgina watched and pity, sadness and more pity built up inside her.

This was the girl's biggest Fear. _Pity, _she thought,_ what a waste of energy. _

The colors became darker, more threatening, and took the shape of raindrops; the pigment disappeared. Or wait, it wasn't disappearing: she just couldn't distinguish the emotions anymore.

Her body shook back and forth, arms wrapped tightly around her shins as Georgina hugged her while _she_ hugged her own knees. The swaying seized when Liv let go of the mental captivity. Her adoptive mother's emotional waves were just too strong.

The clothes hanging from coat hangers above them draped over their shoulders and heads as they sat mutely for a moment.

The glass had broken by now and 'Gina was responsible. Her emotions had transferred to Liv and subsequently she was submerged in its overpowering might.

Pity, or _Misericordia, _a word not used very often.

_What a joke!_ Her mother would say, _Don't let them fool you! Don't let them get away with it! Pity is not a Virtue. As do they claim it to be._

She had been right. As much as she hated her mother, she hated Vices. They polluted the mind, planted seeds of on-growing evil that would leave their marks. The doctors couldn't do anything to cure that 'illness'. No, she knew. _Omnia causa fiunt (Everything happens for a reason)._

_Vitium_, she spoke to herself, remembering from a Latin class, _failing or defect– _Someone was telling her stop – fierce and persistent, to stop before she'd fall again, head first. It was _Spei_; the Hope in spiritual form. Along with _Curiositas_ (Curiosity), they came from the Darkness, speaking: _Listen! Listen! Hear the angels call! Listen to their song!_

"You wanna talk about it?" Georgina had asked not five seconds ago, her voice as soft as her skin.

The thunderous noise the mirror had made when shattering to a million little pieces on the floors of her psyche still resonated in her ears. She was foreign to the world for another minute, but 'Gina reached out to her, guiding her back as if she were a deaf blind man. The _Sensi_ tried to grab her attention from beneath again, pulling at her other hand. _Frustratio_ and _Ira_ neared hand in hand, as always, picking a fight she'd lose if she didn't act quickly.

_But it is the truth! Desperatione_ said, _You are defect! Prove me any different!_ Immediately she became cold upon hearing his voice.

No, perhaps she hated _Desperatione_'s honesty even more than Vices, and even more than _Frustratio_ and _Ira_'s irrefragable collaboration that always worked against her: Frustration always led to anger. They never spoke that much though as the doctors had said would be best. Their treat was never audible, which made the danger that greater.

"Sweetie, come back to me."

The words seemed to come from thousands of miles away. Liv desperately clutched to the sanity she had left: she wanted to come back.

_Sympathia_ always saved her: _Come here, my love! Come, take my hand! I will show you the path to safety. Away from the fire, away from the burning; I'll carry you. _She sounded convincing, at worst, _I Feel with you. I am here for you._

And she was.

"'Gina, why aren't they going? Why don't they leave?" She said in a strange voice, croaky and dry, if there was talk of lack of usage.

Georgina knew who the 'they' were. "They will, Liv. They will if you try." She pushed her ginger-haired head underneath her own chin, soothing her the only way she knew how: by singing.

The melody was slow, the words soft. It was a children's song but Liv couldn't understand it anyway. Georgina's mother language wasn't hers. And she had flunked Spanish in school.

The nightmare that had disturbed her rest had caused more than _Metu_ alone to awake with a start, causing her to flee inside the closet. The _Sensus_ of Fear was always sleeping with one eye open, ready to strike, to pounce in on her with force unparalleled by any other of the Demons. It fueled everything, and drained anything at the same time.

The _Sensi_ hadn't found her by accident, nor had she been their creator, nor was she their _Centurion_, even while this is how they called her.

Georgina sang, still, through the clamors and roars coming from the darkest corners of _Salvus_.

_Metu_ was exceptionally Calm for the time being. _He knows he'd get his Revenge sooner or later._

_Metu_ was once her only friend. Still he was, even while she knew that relationship was comparable to that of a lion and an antelope. _Predator and Prey, Hysteria _chuckled_, Centurion knows how to pick its friends! Foolishness will be its downfall, if not ignorance! _

Hysteria's words stung. She then decided Ignorance – as a pseudo-emotion – was indeed her biggest enemy, as Plato, Socrates' student, proclaimed. Not _Desperatione_, not _Frustratio_ or _Ira _with its iron will and fiery skin, not even _Metu_–

It was _Ignorentia_, half-human, half-_Sensi_.

_Ignorance, the root and stem of every evil._

From the deep, the drum rolling faded into the background as Liv favored the sound of 'Gina's beautiful voice. She sunk back to _Realtà_, slowly, leisurely, savoring words and phrases the great Socrates himself had once used, wondering suddenly if he, too, had a '_Salvus'_ to call his own – a safe place to think. It would be logical, wouldn't it?

She had been crying with no tears; just like she now was laughing with no smile; it was like running with no legs, only the physical Pain was saturated with mental Suffering her own psyche couldn't be held accountable for.

_Interbellum_ was over.

* * *

><p>The visit she had paid to her mother the other day was still fresh in her memory when she woke up; the scene in the closet best forgotten. It had been a long night and when she forced her aching body from the bed to the bathroom, she felt the true result of hours spent on a wooden floor in nothing but pajamas creeping into her muscles. Her head burned from sleeplessness and her neck and shoulders were stiff from stress.<p>

_Depressus _– who always had a way to bring her down even more – spoke with mild interest, _parva leves capiunt animas (__small things occupy light minds). _It was his way of saying that she was bickering about nothing; that touchable hurting didn't exist in _Salvus_, where she belonged, and that she should remember to stay focused. Pain was only relative, especially when there were greater things to worry about.

Stumbling into the bathroom, she cracked the vertebras in her back, stretching her arms and groaning a little as her muscles lengthened and joints popped in place. Her wrists and shoulder blades underwent the same procedure as she scooped her hair together into a messy bum. Loose strands adorned the side of her face and she pinned them back with a few black clips she snatched from the sink.

Then she caught her own reflection in the mirror. After letting her eyes glide over her own features – pale skin covered in a million ginger-colored little polka dots; purple smutches under her eyes – she sighed deeply. Was this really it? This was what her life would be like? A worthless pile of empty days that shaded off into one another in a tiring routine? _Deprussus_ agreed with her.

It wasn't as if she hated life itself. No, it was that she just wished that there would be more to it than… _this_. Something more that would make her want to get up every morning. The _Sensi_ were the only excitement lately, even though 'Gina had said that wasn't something to keep relying on and that their presence wasn't a good thing. _But what did she know?_ Then there was always that possibility–

She shook her head violently, banning the thoughts from her mind. _No more miss self-pity. _The _Sensus _of Depressionkept quiet for once; the mirror image was painful enough.

'Gina had always said she was beautiful the way she looked, the way she was: inside and out – _different_ but beautiful nonetheless. _Tah! Depressione_ began, _Don't make me laugh! N__on teneas aurum totum quod splendet ut aurum. _But the Centurion wanted to take as gold everything that shone like gold. _'Sides,_ Liv said to _Depressione_, _the result validates the deed._'Gina's kindness was unlimited. Still, the mirror never lied.

She splashed water in her face – ice cold water that made her shudder and goose bumps rise on her skin. But she was now fully awake as well and she felt fresh again. A fresh start was definitely what she needed considering yesterday. After brushing her teeth and rinsing her mouth of toothpaste (only with a minor delay as _Depressione_ complained and dawdled until his own lamentation made him faint and _Salvus_ swallowed him whole), she bend forward and spit into the sink. She checked her pearl whites in the silver mirror, running her tongue over them, a smacking sound passing her lips.

The tiles underneath her bare feet felt cold – as cold as the snow underneath her bare feet, crunching and slippery at the same time, on early morning walks by the lake back in _Suécia._ She stripped from her pajamas with that memory of newly-fallen snow on her mind and changed into a pair of jeans and a simple white top. And then she applied a bit of mascara to her lashes and eyeliner to the rim of her eyes. _Attempts in vain, Depressus _said, _to make your appearance less repulsive, Centurion._ She was too tired to even listen.

Two small silver loops were pierced through her ears and _Depressus_'s last comment had been the end of the discussion. Fortunately, _Solitude_ (Loneliness, in every dominion) had pulled at his black tail, dragging him back to where he came from; back in his burrow. Every now and then _Solitude_ surprised her with his easiness. Perhaps _he_ understood her best of all.

Upon nearing the kitchen, she heard tumult.

"Chris, I said, cut it out!" A high voice screamed.

Emily_ – _the one who _Invidia_ (in all her glory of resentment and spite and excess) loathed above all; the one who's perfection was far beyond the measuring abilities of any instrument. An excellent student, a terrific dancer, a great friend, a perfect daughter. _God, curse her and her loveliness._

"Don't be such a baby, you sissy. It was just a joke!"

She had put a checkered blouse on over her shirt, which was unbuttoned and far too big, but it left her figure – if one could even call it human – hidden in a way that, at least to her, was tolerable. Her pants were also always a size larger than her own, including her shoes. _Salvus_ was such a enormous place after all; she never knew how long she might there. Years maybe and she would grow and become taller. The urgency to accomplish precaution in the smallest of details she had adopted from who else than _Metu_ himself.

Poisoned to the bone by his deceitful an persuasive words, Liv swore never to speak his name ever again, or even think it.

"Chris, leave your sister alone. And Emily, shut up and eat your food or you're going to miss the bus again."

Mr. Ramirez's command was as cold as the snow that was still underneath her feet. It send a shudder through her being, even in _Salvus_ it could be felt. _There is no time for silly thoughts now! _She thought in the _Sensi_'s language_, Salvus is not needed as of yet! Interbellum won't come before sundown!_

The One-Who's-Name-Shan't-Be-Spoken nodded mutely, _Certainly, Centurion._

The Preservation of Humanoids, or _school_, as they called it, had to be attended to today, therefore she couldn't let herself get carried away; not if she wanted to escape the Wrath of the _Furor_, the blind ruler of everything. He _was_ Terror, Pain and all feared him. He was everywhere, and he was strong in Mr. Ramirez, strong in her teacher at PoH, and incredibly strong in mankind in general. The Forbidden One always warned her when He was near, but now that she had vowed to never speak of him again, she had to manage on her own.

_Nosce te ipsum (Know thyself), Solitudo _whispered softly_, for I do not, anymore…_

It was true, _but_, she reasoned, _it was too late now._

They sat at the rounded table: the three of them. Mr. Ramirez with a newspaper before him and Christian on his right while Emily sat opposite of him.

Liv was still standing one step shy from entering the kitchen fully.

"A joke indeed…" Liv whispered to herself as she walked to the sink to wash her hands in the blood she had just shed. The crime she had just committed twirled down the drawn, long forgotten before anyone could find out – especially Emily. _I shall never think of her in such terms ever again. _

"Not even a 'good morning', Liv? I thought you'd learned manners by now?"

A snicker at her expense reached her ears, but she focused on the water coating her hands with transparent layer of perfection. _It is she,_ _Aqua, who earn the praise of perfection; not Emily._

She stood with her back to the _Furor_ that would soon rise. Risky but not impossible to beat.

"I'm sorry, Sir." She said, "Good morning."

"There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" He answered, "Now, fetch me my coffee, will you?"

"Why does she call him 'Sir'?"

His head disappeared between the papers again, where before they had been boring a whole in the back of her head (_Hysteria_ had told her, _'but don't take it personally'_, she had added, _'You never do anyways...'_).

_Salvas_ would've been so much more satisfying than this. _If only 'Gina were here…_

Her hands were shaking when she dried them off.

Emily's question was never answered. "Why don't you call him 'Dad' like we do?" She insisted, _the stubborn bitch._

Liv wasn't expecting this. Direct confrontation was one of the Great _Tormentum. _She was shocked.

"Because that would be lying for no reason." It was the honest truth.

"Tss," The girl scowled, her upper body twisted so she could face her 'sister', "You and your endless logic."

From afar she could hear _Hysteria_'s recognizable laughter.

_Keep them in check_, she thought, _keep them in check._

"– I'm just so tired because I couldn't sleep at all last night. I need my beauty rest, you know."

"Yeah, I have this huge exam in a few hours and I'm dead tired. If I get an F, we know whose fault it is."

She pushed the Sensi's warnings away. They screamed together in a chaos of counsel and threat. Neither wanted by Liv. _Go to Hell! I am not to be trifled with!_ _I will not give in to the Furor's wishes!_

"Unlike others around here, _I_ actually take other people's needs and wishes into account."

They were trying to draw her out; provoke her enough so she would flip: they wanted a show. Or they wanted revenge for last night, she didn't know exactly. No one of the _Sensi_ uttered a sound.

_Keep them in check. Keep them in check._

Suddenly, blue. Much blue. The mirror said it. _Sympathia_ had her back once again.

"It's okay. I got it."

The coffeepot had been lifted from her hold. Freed of its heaviness, Liv realized how exhausting the simple task had been.

'Gina noticed her struggle.

Liv thought, _When did she come in?, Curiositas _was unreachable and could not ask it for her; the _Furor_ was just too frightening.

"Where's my coffee?" Mr. Ramirez said.

"Just relax, I'll make you breakfast and bring it up to your room." 'Gina informed her as if she was crazy.

_Ha! _Another laugh without a smile.

Georgina poured coffee into a mug and brought it over to her husband. He took it with a huff and she took his head in her hands momentarily to kiss his bold head. "Everything okay over here?"

The black man only nodded, Liv watched, and an 'ah-hum' agreement left his mouth.

The presence of an earnest soul made her snap from her daze. Looking next to her, she found two gleaming eyes staring up at her with Curiosity foreign to her own perception. The honesty of a dog was as true as spring after winter.

_Fallaces sunt rerum species __(The appearances of things are deceptive). _It was the Forbidden One.

The mirror image was a lie.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well? What do you think? I thought it was rather fascinating to write, if i may say so:). And in case you're wondering, i've read a few english books over the past few weeks and they kinda inspired me a little bit. Thank you for reading and good night! I hope you review so i know what exactly to do with this story.**

**Ps. if anyone thinks i should put the names and phrases i used in latin at the end of each chapter, please so so and i will. Right now i'm too tired:p.**


	4. Life Is Unfair

**A/N: Another update! whoehoooh! Okidoki folks, this chapter is waaaaay long. i hope u like it. This story is turning out better than i expected and very different too. Please give me comments? Oh, and please take a look at the riddle below when you're done reading. The one who gets the answer right will get... uhm... don't know yet... oh wait, you get one wish! how's that?**

**Alright, on with the show now.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>Life Is Unfair<p>

In the beginning it was hard for her to deal with all of it. But as time went by, she grew accustomed to Them. Yet, the danger always remained that _Realtà_ found out about her betrayal. Often she chose the protection of _Salvas_ over Earth's cruelness, but as she now discovered, it was a lie. Her reason to dive were unfair, selfish, irrational even. Logic was deformed in _Salvas_; the laws of physics weren't applied nor followed. Therefore life itself _there_ had no meaning _here_ on Earth. _Realtà _never agreed with her on anything, but perhaps that was the reason she wanted to fall, to get away.

'Gina claimed she was as much a part of _Realtà _as she was, and that she needn't be Afraid. But 'Gina didn't know that that judgment was as unreliable and unbelievable as an ant claiming he would beat an elephant in a boxing match.

She liked to see herself as that ant: completely confident and utterly ignorant. But she wasn't stupid; she wasn't ignorant. She was _insane_.

_Prove me wrong_, _Desperatione_ had said, _you are defect. Prove me wrong._ _It is the truth._

She couldn't, really. She wasn't strong enough to do so. _Fate is carved in rock, Centurion. Deal with it, Depressus _said loud enough for all the _Sensi_ to hear; _you are no exception._

The _Furor_ just grinned.

_Despressus's _declaration reminded her of a Greek tragedy, where fate, or destiny, was never on the main character's side: _Oedipus the King_ by play writer and philosopher Sophocles.

…

I'll tell you.

The myth begins when _Laius_, king of _Thebe_ and husband of the queen, consults the Oracle of _Apollo_ in _Delphi_. He has no offspring to call his own and wonders why.

The Oracle tells him that a son bred by his wife would end his father's life (sign of fate number one). Of course this frightens _Laius_.

The first child his wife gives birth to is regrettably a boy and the King decides to act quickly (human interference is taken into account when fate's concerned, I believe). He cuts the tendons in the baby's feet so he would never be able to walk and orders a servant to take it with him to the mountains and abandon it there.

"Send him to the fields," He said, "the sheep pastures, so far he couldn't even lay eyes on Thebe." But, as merciful as some people are, instead of leaving it to die of exposure, the servant passes the child to a local shepherd, who then hands it over to another man down in Corinth (considering this, I wonder–

…

Liv had to take a break from writing momentarily as the bus made a rather sharp turn to the left. As she looked up, she came back from _Salvus_ for a second. The _Sensi_ mostly left her alone when she was writing, but only if she retreated to the deepest, darkest cliff. The sun was still up after all; they slept mostly during the daytime, with the _Furor_ being the only exclusion. At night they reached their full potential. If she stayed in the shade it would be alright. Then she would be safe from His judgment. She would have to wait 'till midday though, if she wanted to share her most undisclosed secrets with the paper, as even _He_ become sloppy when tired.

She glanced out the window to her right.

She had a hard time focusing with all the noises around her, from traffic outside to the chattering students inside; it wasn't comfortable in the least bit. The fact she didn't know what they were saying was frustrating to her. The commotion drummed through the Mirror into _Salvus. _But she did nothing to shield or close it.

She never really took part in her fellow scholars' conversations as it didn't interest her what they were saying. They had no idea of what truly mattered. She had found absolutely no similarities with the girls at her school. So she preferred to be alone and blend in with the crowd.

The _Furor_ made a 'tsking' sound at her, rolling his eyes.

She agreed with him.

Her eyes watched the scenery beyond the glass and her mind drifted to _Oedipus_ again.

…

(Considering this, I wonder if it was the feeling of guilt or lenience that drove these people. Listening to one's conscious is an act of selfishness, and of course performing to its will.)

Miraculously, the small infant _Oedipus_ was taken in by the house of _Polybus_, the king of _Corinth_ (fate once again, I suppose?). He and his wife _Merope_ began to raise him as if he were their own blood. They gave him the name '_Oidipous', _meaning 'swelling' in Greek, as his feet were red and thick from inexplicable injuries (it was actually more of a resemblance of the word _'oedema'_; my ancient Greek is a little rusty... oh, you get the point).

Well then, years passed, and the now prince of _Corinth_ lived a carefree and perfect life. His so-called parents adored him and the world lay at his feet, so to speak (you guessed it, that won't last long; that's the clue with all tragedies, I presume: otherwise they wouldn't be called so…).

So, on one late night stroll, the full-grown _Oedipus _comes upon a tramp, who's drunk-ass dismisses all politeness and civility. He tells _Oedipus_, with a slurred drawl, that he is in fact adopted by the royal family of _Corinth_, and therefore they have been lying to him ever since he learned to do more than drool (a fool if you'd ask me, to mangle in other people's business; but every fool – no matter how ignorant – has its purpose, especially when dealing with something as predestined as fate).

_Oedipus_ returns, after hearing this, to the palace and goes to confront the people he has been calling 'father and mother' for as long as he could remember. They promptly deny the accusations he makes against them. And so, he sends word to the famous Oracle in _Delphi_ for consult, without the knowledge this is the same prophet his biological parents have sought advice from before he was born (this 'coincidence'… fate, perhaps?).

Personally, I don't rely on fate too much; I have my reasons. But I'll not get ahead of myself, for the climax has yet to be revealed. Yes, I was referring to _Oedipus_'s tragedy as well as my own. The only difference being that I haven't discovered what the climax in my life will be precisely, but I'm sure it hasn't come yet, disappointingly.

Anyways, the Oracle remains vague and aloof, and only informs him that he is destined to murder his father and marry his mother. Naturally _Oedipus_ wants to circumvent these brutal events destiny has in store for him, and he decides to create his own fortune by never returning to _Corinth_ (peculiar how people prefer to avoid confrontation at any cost. I don't have a say in the matter though). Instead, he goes to _Thebe_, which is close to _Delphi_, and as he travels he passes a town called _Davlia_. Here, three roads cross each other and _Oedipus_ arrives at the same time a large chariot does. He moves to continue as the charioteer orders his horses to march as well. Neither is willing to let the other go first, and to decide who has the right to pass first, the owner of the carriage battles against _Oedipus _(pride and honour were particularly important back then). The older man loses with a forceful death strike and _Oedipus_ could continue his journey without another hitch.

"Pride breeds the tyrant violent pride, gorging, crammed to bursting with all that is overripe and rich with ruin... Can such a man, so desperate, still boast he can save his life from the flashing bolts of god?" The Chorus speaks as if watching from above.

Sometimes she thought the _Sensi_ were like her Chorus: commenting on the play but not actively participating in it, nor undergoing any consequences.

Then what? According to the legend, _Oedipus_ went to _Thebe_ (yes, his country of origin) and upon entering the city gates a Sphinx blocked his way. All who wanted to pass had to answer a riddle correctly. If not correct, they were eaten alive by the creature: a tragic fate indeed... But _Oedipus_ was smart and, as the myth says, he still had a prophecy to fulfil. Thus, he, being the first, knows the right answer. The Sphinx kills itself instantly; stunned a simple mortal has beaten him at his own game and embarrassed to death. The city of _Thebe_ is now free from the Sphinx's iron rule and to show their gratitude, the citizens grant him the honour of kingship and the hand of Queen _Jocasta_, whom recently had become a widow. They have two sons and two daughters together and live in great prosperity (one of the daughters was named _Antigone_; in the future I will speak of her more).

Can you connect the dots? I certainly can. The old man Oedipus had killed on the crossroad was his father and the widow he married and slept with was _Laius_'s wife and his mother. Fate had caught up with him; his attempts to avoid the Oracle's prediction had failed.

The story ends with _Jocasta_ taking her own life, _Oedipus_ figuring out the truth and stabbing his eyes out in agony. "What good were eyes to me?" He says, "Nothing I could see could bring me joy." (I, as no other, can relate to that; yet I value my eyesight more than _Oedipus_ did, I guess). Blind he wanders through the mountains, finding a slow, tormenting death...

So who was _Oedipus_ really? His person was created by the prophecy that controlled his life. No matter how hard he tried, it followed him one way or another, literally. Maybe we all have some sort of prediction that has been fixed from birth. Many people like to believe that is true. It would be a lot easier, wouldn't it? – to know every little detail before it has even occurred? One would be able to prepare oneself mentally, causing Emotions such as Surprise, Awe, Disappointment and Regret to disappear (the _Sensi_ wouldn't be pleased if they heard about this, above all the _Furor_, but I feel free enough to write to you like this). Unluckily, there's no Oracle of any sort to tell my fortunes; probably _misfortunes_ in my case.

I am extremely fascinated by _Oedipus_'s story. Not only because I enjoy reading and philosophizing about ancient myths, but also because I can really relate to this story in particular. And with _me _I actually mean 'people who are different'. _Whatever that means–_

_Yes, Depressus_, I would say, _that is a good question. 'What _does_ that mean?' I wish I knew, but my future is still unclear to me, so the exact depth of that segregation stays concealed until time allows it to show its true colours._

My message to you today is: Life is unfair, and always will be; _deal with it._

Sincerely,

M.P.

Ps. In case you're wondering why I haven't dated this: I believe time is only relative, as is pain. But I'll explain that some other time.

...

'_How tragic can one man's fate be?' _The words kept on repeating themselves inside her head when she exited the bus and continued up the path leading to the school's entrance hall. People simply ignored her, walking by her as if she were no more than a ghost. She was used to it; that didn't lessen the pain though.

But while she accepted the isolation without question, the name-calling didn't go away. Most of the bullying either had to do with the colour of her curly, even frizzy, hair or the fact she dressed differently. At times they were also focused on her being the new kid, rumours about her family and the reason why she was such an outcast, but on the whole the harassment stayed verbal, to her relief.

She decided not to dwell on such inadequate matters, _compared to Oedipus's hardship, _she thought, _mine isn't of any great magnitude. But relatively speaking, it can't get any worse than this, in my position at least._

Herds of students filled the hallways: pushing, laughing, talking, playing. All on their pink clouds, full of dreams, hopes and expectations, far away from all the horror, pain and suffering the world was suffocating from; on the edge of bursting.

She didn't hate them. Their ignorance was something to sympathize, not hate; they weren't to blame. Still, from time to time she _wanted _to hold them responsible for their own actions and believes. But she knew that was just selfish on her part.

_Turn the other cheek,_ _Misericodria_ would say. Pity... _Nemo dat quod non habet_ (No one gives what he does not have). Fortunately, the _Sensus_ of Pity could give it for her. She was glad because of this very fact.

And it was all she could do: Confrontation was never one of her strong points.

She made no efforts to get to know them better. She was still known as the weird newbie, although it had almost been two years already when she moved to _Grand Rapids_ and first set foot inside _East Grand Rapids High School_.

They hated her, she understood as much. Because of her differentness, her peculiarity, but maybe – an educated guess – because she wasn't _afraid_ to stand out (_Metu_ was banished after all), as they were. She might not like this heavy verity but it was all she could come up with. Later that day she would revoke this verdict.

After getting her books from her locker, she hurried to class as the bell rang in her ears.

She bumped into somebody in the corridor, and she apologized quickly, grabbing a piece of fallen paper off the floor.

"Watch where ye're goin', _retard_!"

She gulped at the harsh insult, dragging her chin up to meet a pair deep green eyes. The eyes said everything. She read them carefully.

Betty Johnson, a girl who knew no boundaries when it came to shamelessly bullying other people.

Her blond hair was separated in a dozen ringlets, flawlessly curled in place, not a single strand of gold amiss. Betty's slim figure was something every girl was Jealous of, and every boy wanted to date her.

A nice personality – or a personality at all – apparently wasn't needed to be popular.

"What are you starin' at?"

One of Betty's sidekicks giggled at Liv's expense. Lindsay Lee. She was just as arrogant as Betty, but nowhere near as pretty. "Jealous of what you don't have?" She bitched with a smirk.

Even looking wasn't allowed here.

_Invidia _(Jealousy) interfered immediately, _of course It's not Jealous. Why would It be Jealous of a brainless fruitcake that isn't bright enough to know the difference between Jealousy and Loathing._

_Hysteria _cried out loudly; _Invidia_ had made Liv say that out loud.

Taylor Robinson, another teenager in the group, gasped, her mouth hanging open.

Betty pulled up her eyebrows, "What did you just call me?"

Liv wanted to hide under a rock out of humiliation because she had let the words slip so easily, while they hadn't even been her own. Her obedience to such a bitter _Sensus _caused another One to raise Its head.

_Desiderium_ (_Sensus_ of both Regret and Remorse) sighed deeply, capturing Liv's eyes with His coal black ones. _What are the odds? _He whispered slowly, _–of Our Centurion being in league with the Enemy?_

The Regret was indeed treason. These humans didn't deserve anything. _Give them an inch and they will take an ell, _Liv said. _Desiderium_ was a _Sensus_ she wasn't that familiar with, but somehow she felt very connected to Him in that moment, even when that was for the wrong reasons.

Freedom of speech was soiled on Earth; Liv didn't subsiston Earth.

"Earth to fire crotch?" A hand waved in front of her face.

She swapped it away – which was to her own surprise, but this time _Desiderium_ nodded approvingly as she pushed Him back to the Darkness.

But Liv herself was pushed as well. "Are you deaf, ginger?" Taylor said, breaking her concentration.

Liv regained her footing by taking a few steps backwards but Taylor poked her again in her shoulder.

_Ira _growled_, cut it out._

Her features were plain even though the battle going on inside her head was driving her mad.

"Leave me alone."

More laughing and Betty hushed them with a lifted arm. "Carrot top thinks she's tough." She chuckled, "Maybe we should teach her a thing or two about respect, don't you think, Lins–?" She turned to her friends but another voice broke her off.

"Hey, you there! Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"

The hall was almost completely empty now and their quarrel hadn't gone unnoticed by the caretaker, who had been standing around the corner. He was looking at them suspiciously.

"Saved by the genitor," Lindsay bit, quiet enough so the man couldn't hear her, "How pathetic."

"Yeah, don't think you're off the hook that easily, Ramirez."

Liv only swallowed.

_Touch me again and I'll break your hand._

"Beat it before I feel obliged to report this little spat to Principle Davis."

Finally, after one more hateful glare, they passed, pushing her aside purposely and continuing their stroll down the hall. As if they owned the place. They disappeared out of sight within seconds.

Liv looked over her shoulder in the direction of 'Fat Hector', as the children in school called him.

The Mexican ex offender was quite a character in Liv's eyes, with big tattoos covering his body, a dark moustache and a bold head. She actually liked his gruff behaviour and indifferent attitude. He was one of the only genuine and honest people she had ever met, which was very rare. He might be rude, blunt and sarcastic but at least he didn't pretend to be someone he wasn't. They shared some sort of unspoken agreement of alliance; one that would appear in a look or silent gesture.

Now, he gave her a subtle wink. No smile. No words needed to be said.

_Thank you, _Liv nodded at him.

Hector went to attend his duties again without as much as a second glance at the girl and Liv went to class.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later she found herself sluggishly occupying an old school-desk smeared with chicken-scratch, little doodles and lots and lots profanity. It disgusted and intrigued her at the same time.<p>

The little commotion earlier had left her mentally exhausted and she just wanted to crawl in bed and put the covers up over her head. But, of course, this suggestion was denied.

Her eyes glided over the worn wood lazily, not paying any attention to the history book on top of the table. She sighed, her head rolling to the side; one ginger-coloured eyebrow up in a nonchalant and bored expression.

The _Sensi_ were quiet, their snoring audible in the background. The _Furor_ was inside the _Regia_ (the Palace) and doing whatever he did in there alone. The rest was of little importance.

The teacher went on and on about the civil war in the 1860's but she couldn't care less. School had little to no meaning to her anymore. It was absolutely no priority in her life at this moment, nor were a social life, trends and creativity. All she enjoyed these days was walks in the park, listening to music and, of course, writing and dreaming.

She always liked to fantasize about certain matters. Whether that'd be human behaviour, nature's secrets or the fine arts, such as classical symphonies by _Tchaikovsky_, _Schumann_ and _Mussorgsky_. But she also appreciated rock, blues and jazz tunes from bands like _The Doors_, _Broken Bells _and_ The Beatles._ She loved to doze off with the sweet melodies from older, better times filling her ears. Horseback riding also had been one of her favourite activities not too long ago, but lately that wasn't on her mind anymore. She would go to the farming fields just outside _Grand Rapids. _The endless, empty fields gave her a feeling of tranquillity. And there were only horses and sheep there, who weren't judgemental, annoying or loud. She didn't dare to ride the noble animals beyond the fence though. They would come to her when she called out to them; again, a nice contrast with human beings.

_In Suécia everything is so much more beautiful though, including the pastures... _

But what she was fond of more than anything was philosophizing.

_Philosophy_, _Solitudo_ sighed suddenly, _what a fine way to describe one's love for wisdom and knowledge. _Silence for a moment, then: _But how can a philosopher be anything near satisfied when there isn't an audience who would listen to his new profound theories?_

How had he known her thoughts had floated to philosophy again? It always remained a mystery how well He knew her. Loneliness was her second name anyhow.

As He was the only one awake, she decided to engage in conversation with Him. _An audience isn't always useful or supportive, _she said_, it can be a philosopher's downfall. Take Socrates for example. He was put to death because 'the audience' couldn't handle or accept his ideas._

_That never held philosophers back now, did it? _He asked_, On the contrary, the audience's rejection drives them to try and try and try until their ignorance has disappeared forever._

Ignorance, an everlasting flaw in humanity.

Liv narrowed her eyes in thought, was it true what _Solitude_ was saying? Did philosophers really want to share their wisdom even when their listeners refused to recognize the perfect Logic of it? And, on top of that, with the threat of exile above their head? It would be very altruistic and heroic of them, but also sensible? I don't think so.

_My strategy will have more of a desired result_, she said with a slight smile.

_Solitude_ shrugged apathetically, mumbling, _crede quod habes, et habes__ (believe that you have it, and you do), _and then returning to sleep.

Liv let her thoughts drift to the horses at the countryside: their strong legs galloping over the pastures; hooves elegantly moving through the high, knee-length grass; head up in the air; long dark or blond manes waving in the wind. Their beauty was something that would never stop amazing her. Perfection existed.

She hadn't realized her head had sagged forward and her eyes had closed softly.

The horses pulled her into dreamland with their slow, mesmerizing dance.

It lasted only a few minutes to her dissatisfaction.

An incredibly hard bang in front of her forcefully snapped her from her lazy daze.

She shot awake, startled by the sudden blow, and a jolt of surprise spurted through her body. "Wha–?" She blinked rapidly, sitting up in her chair.

The _Sensi_ slowly stirred awake as well.

A very angry Mr. Anderson stared down at her with piercing blue eyes from behind a set of small glasses that were placed on a crooked nose. The middle-aged man was going bold and grey and deep wrinkles were visible on his frowning face. His striped dress shirt was stretched to the limit because of his chubby physique and the faded brown, corduroy blazer he was wearing made him look like a chaotic professor from another time.

The long pointer he had used earlier to point out words and pictures on a projector at the front of the classroom had been the cause of Liv's abrupt awakening as it had connected with the wood of the desk before her with a swing of Mr. Anderson's arm.

"Miss Ramirez, sleeping through class again, are we?" He said explicitly clear for all the students inside the room to hear, "Well, then, if you feel like you can sleep your way through my lessons, why don't you tell us what the eleven states that rebelled against the Union were known as?"

All eyes were focused on her, causing a rosy colour to flush up her cheeks. She wanted to disappear through the floor underneath her. Since that was practically impossible, she hid behind her hair, lowering her gaze to her hands.

Everyone was completely quiet; full of expectation of the punishment yet to come, but also because of malicious delight. People had turned in their seat to get a better look at the disturbance in the back of the class.

Their eyes were burning into her skin and she desperately tried to avoid their mean and curious faces, including Mr. Anderson's unsympathetic expression.

"Well?"

Taylor Robinson, who had history with Liv, muttered something in another classmate's ear, snickering behind her hand afterwards.

Liv thought of the horses, how they could run with the wind in their manes towards the horizon, never looking back.

She had no idea what the answer was.

_Leave It alone, Frustratio _hissed from the shadows, having just awoken_, the Centurion does not need your pathetic riddles to determine Its intelligence._

_Ira _(Anger) agreed_, I would have his head if it weren't for the Lux._

Light was indeed the _Sensi_'s biggest rival during this time of hour. But that didn't stop Them from whispering words of deceit in Liv's ears.

She felt nauseous and her stomach twisted, a shiver rocketing through her.

"I–" Her breathing became heavier, her heart rate picking up with each passing second. "I don't–"

_Metu_ – the Forbidden One – reared His ugly head inside her so abruptly, she felt dizzy and weak-muscled.

Fear overcame her and the room started spinning on its own accord.

And then, darkness...

* * *

><p>"She fainted during class?" Georgina repeated with astonishment. This had never happened before. <em>Oh god, what had happened now?<em>

"Yes..." She listened to the person on the other side of the telephone."Yes, yes, I know but–" She was interrupted.

A moment of silence inside the living room.

"I understand, Mrs. Davis." She said softly, turning towards the window behind her. "I will talk to her about it." She watched an ill-looking Liv walking over the pavement up to the house.

"Yes, thank you. Good day." She hung up as the front door fell closed.

There came absolutely no sound for the hall.

"Liv?" Georgina called out to her, "Could you come to the kitchen, dear?"

Her schoolbag dropped to the floor underneath the hat stand with a mat thump and she rolled her eyes.

_Five more hours, Centurion. Three hundred minutes. Eighteen thousand seconds, _the Snake_ Ira _lisped sneakily, _then Interbellum will save you._

Liv didn't see _Interbellum_ as a rescue to her distress at the moment. If anything, it would make thing worse. Lately the _Sensi_ had gotten stronger, especially during the day; what meant only one thing: she was losing control. And she clearly remembered – with pain in her heart – what had happened the last time she had surrendered to the overwhelming power the _Sensi_ possessed.

The image of her confused mother crossed her mind.

_No time to be stuck in the past, _she said to herself, _stay in the present. _

She entered the kitchen and saw 'Gina leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankle.

"What?" Liv asked in a defensive manner as the other woman looked at her.

"Care to tell me what happened exactly?"

She heaved a sigh, and then raised her shoulders. "I was just tired, I guess."

'Gina shook her head, "Don't give me that, Liv. You and I both know that's not true." She pushed herself away from the kitchen sink, making her way over to the girl. Her face softened a little. "I'm just trying to understand, sweetie." She took Liv's head between hands.

Liv looked at her with blank eyes.

Her freckled cheeks were in large contrast with 'Gina's darker-skinned hands.

She pulled Liv into a hug, kissing her forehead and wrapping her arms around the sixteen-year-old.

Somehow the _Sensi_ were at ease when 'Gina was around, and so Liv let her guard down.

After a few minutes of physical support, 'Gina took a deep breath, "I just got off the phone with Mrs. Davis and we agreed that you need to speak to somebody about your... _issues_."

Liv froze, _what did she just say?_

"I've already contacted Mr. Hill and–"

Liv had wrestled herself free from 'Gina's embrace. _Mr. Hill... the devil in human form. _She shudderedat the memory of the ice cold monster that called himself a psychiatrist_. _

"You made an appointment without consulting _me_ first?" She asked disbelieved, taking a step back.

_Ira_ was the one behind the question.

"I'm doing this for your own good, Liv." 'Gina answered a bit sternly, stroking her cheek, "I want to help you overcome this illness."

Again, Liv backed away from her touch. "No–" Her lips parted slightly as her eyes went big, "Stop–" The command hadn't been so much directed at Georgina, more at _Ira_. The Snake circled around her feet before slithering up her left ankle, twirling His slick body around her leg and hissing lowly.

The dog began to growl at her, showing its teeth and lowering its head. It stood two meters away and had watched the two females with mild interest at first from its spot in the dog basket. But now it was wide awake; tail firmly kept still; ears back; lips pulled back in an ugly grimace.

Liv looked down at her limp and gasped at the sight.

"Liv?" 'Gina was oblivious to the fact a black cobra was climbing up Liv's leg. "What's wrong? Talk to me." She reached out to her again.

"_In nomine Domini _(In the name of the Lord)," Liv said, _"__sic vis pacem, para bellum (if you want peace, prepare for war)."_

Spike, the brown and black border terrier, had started to bark loudly by now, the noise echoing through the whole house.

Her entire demeanor had changed: her eyes were dark; her features sharp and her body rigid from worked-up tension.

The Snake tightened His hold around her, and she didn't resist.

'Gina swallowed, _oh God. _She blinked a few times before opening her mouth: "What does that mean?" Her voice was tiny and scared. Later she would think this was crazy – being frightened of her own daughter – but right now it was her first instinct.

A strange grin crept over Liv's face, but she said nothing.

Abruptly she turned around and stalked out of the kitchen.

The barking continued in a constant annoying rhythm.

Whatever Georgina had expected, this wasn't it. She thought she would yell, argue with and be angry – nothing though. She really had a heart of stone. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb; the girl was giving her one hell of a headache. Deciding to let it go, she picked up the phone again and dialed the appropriate number.

Upstairs, Liv was panting heavily against her bedroom door. She stared at the grey carpet, chest rising and falling with east panicked breath she took. 'Gina had no idea the danger she had been in and how much effort it had caused her to restrain the Beast. _Kill... Kill... Kill... _He had ordered – _specially that damned excuse of a dog._

_Ira_ slithered to the floor, half-satisfied, half-disappointed.

_A Centurion shouldn't fight Its own troops. Treason is punished by death._

The _Sensus_ was trying to take over. But with the little strength she had left, Liv managed to whisper: _And an Optione should know... Its place._

The Snake hissed with His tongue at her, _the Furor will hear about_ _this.. _Another hiss_. _Then, suddenly, it went up in flames, going back to the _Regia._

The room fell silent.

Slowly, Liv sank to the floor, her back sliding down against the wooden door behind her. Her butt hit the carpet and immediately the tears began to flow.

_Metu_ had his arms around her like a large blanket and _Tritistia _streamed down her cheeks. The _Sensus_ of Sadness only appeared in liquid form, always coming from her Lachrymal ducts.

_Use your own advice, Centurion, Solitude _said_, except your fate, even when life is unfair._

She cried until she had no more to cry over. And there was nothing but emptiness inside her.

She quickly got up suddenly and began to search in the laundry-basket, throwing clothes around until she found the dress she had been looking for. She reached inside the pockets and found it: The article on the mutant named Erik Lenssher. Letting her eyes rest on the piece of paper for a minute, she bit her lower lip.

_Yes_, she said finally, _yes, it's time. _She wiped the tears from her eyes.

_Metu_ made her gather her belongings and pack her bag and suitcase.

She couldn't stay, the Logic was clear to her. She was a danger to herself and her environment. If she couldn't keep the _Sensi_ in check and protect herself, how could she protect others from Their power?

She didn't belong here. She now knew why the children at school hated her. It wasn't because she was different, or because she was peculiar, or fearless. It was because she _was _afraid. And not of the people around her, or the unanswered questions, or the pain of her past, but of her Emotions.

She wrote down a quick note for 'Gina and placed it on her desk.

_Omnia causa fiunt (Everything happens for a reason.)_

_M.P._

After climbing out the window, she walked over the roof. Then threw her suitcase to the ground below. The rain-pipe was next. In one fluent movement her feet hit the grass of her front yard.

_Running won't solve anything, Centurion, _the_ Furor _said in a low, masculine voice that boomed over the street.

She continued nonetheless, not looking back once.

The thunder of the _Furor_'s laughter sounded as if from an old horror movie.

For the first time in her life _Spei_ sparked through the cloud of darkness.

She was going to find this Erik Lenssher and ask him how life has treated him so far, and how he dealt with it. Just like _Oedipus, _there was nothing one could do about the given fate. But somehow Erik Lenssher had been able to shape his own the way he wanted to. However, that could be predestined as well...

Nah, it didn't matter. She wanted to learn to do the same.

Life was unfair either way.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So that's it for now. Please please review and make me happy? Here's the riddle the Sphinx asked Oedipus: "What walks on four feet in the morning, two in the afternoon and three at night?" And no cheating by googling it or something! I will know! Good night! Ps. I'm sorry if you guys are waiting for the x-men to come into the story. Maybe the next chapter, i don't know yet how exactly it will turn out. Tell me your opinion whether i should focus on my OC a little more or just let her go to the X-mansion already. Thank you.**


	5. It Looks Like Thunder

**A/N: I hope i still have some readers left so i'm not updating for nothing! What's to come in this chapter: Liv meets John/Pyro for the first time! Hope you enjoy. Reviews are welcome.**

* * *

><p>It Looks Like Thunder<p>

Liv had no idea where to start her search for the infamous _Magneto_, as the newspapers called him.

Though this had been coming for a while, it was still hard for her to accept the fact she was on her own now. And on top of that – dreadfully so – it was different from what she had expected. _Shocker_. Running away was something very impulsive and not her style at all. _Metu_ (Fear) and _Verecundia_ (Shyness) would agree with that outspokenly.

She had to admit though: while she had lost certain privileges (such as a roof above her head, clean clothes and three meals a day–), she had gained others. Many others.

_Like?_ _Depressus_ mumbled quietly.

She stopped, frozen, for a second and if her brain was a machine, one would be able to see the gears turning with creaking sounds at a rusty pace.

Strange... For some reason she was more at ease than she'd ever been. Even with the knowledge that she was all alone; at the mercy of destiny. And so she ignored the black-tailed Demon, shaking her head.

That didn't mean her insecurities and worries were gone though.

Not one hours ago she had been so sure of herself; confident in her decision. _Sic vis pacem, para bellum (if you want peace, prepare for war), _she had told 'Gina, but she never realized that the beginning was the hardest part.

_Frustratio_ smiled in a bitter way, reflecting Liv's exact thoughts.

And this made her optimism from earlier vanish slowly with each disapproved suggestion that crossed her mind.

_Look his name up in the White Pages?_

No, too obvious and she doubted his home address would be in there in any case.

_Ask random people on the street if they'd seen him?_

Nah, bad idea. Just– _bad_.

_Spread flyers with his face on them?_

Uh-uh, talk about self-evident! And suspicious might she add.

_Jezus. _She pinched her upper arm, frowning and watching the slightly freckled skin turn redder and redder – she had removed her jacket in advance and it was now tied around her waist.

It wasn't so much _Curae_ (the _Sensus_ of Anxiety) that made her do this kind of thing. No, it was– it was…

(Retard… freak… imbecile…)

–it was… her own fault.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

Immediately, she dropped her hand and blushed, despite of herself.

Mhmm. The _Sensi_ were pleased with Their accomplishment.

As if she had asked for any of this.

A group of people passed her on the sidewalk and their chattering pulled her back down to earth. The light stinging in her arm served to focus her mind.

_Good, now shut up and listen. _

While Liv bit the inside of her cheek, she narrowed her eyes. Her gaze was fixed ahead of her.

Organized and disciplined as she normally was, she figured it was best to come up with some sort of plan and stick with it. Change was never something she was very happy with and/or comfortable. That's why she _had_ to put her thoughts in order and–

Of course this was pretty much impossible.

_Blah blah! Pay attention!_

_Alright, alright!_ Liv growled through gritted teeth.

It was nothing.

* * *

><p>Silence for once, which was nice. Well, almost. Sounds and images were muffled behind the Mirror, but it was good enough for Liv.<p>

Now she could continue. Finally.

Mission: Reclaim the Throne.

How: Beat the _Sensi_ with help of a higher-up, in form of the Target.

Target: Erik Lensherr, also known as Magneto.

The _Legates_.

It couldn't be that difficult right? To figure out where the state's most hated criminal was being held in prison?

Right. But of course, the exact location was a secret, and kept that way at any cost. Who knows what will happen if that information got out?

_Splendid. Absolutely splendid._

_Immunes_ (specially skilled/mutants) and _Alia_ (others/humans) alike would pay a whole lot for such previous data. Even so, she wasn't after fame or money. No, she would keep him all to herself. No sharing. She giggled. That sounded more perverted than she had intended.

_I'm getting ahead of myself, _she thought,_ I haven't even the slightest clue on how to get to him anyways._

Besides, she didn't have the superior intellect of a genius, so how was she going to pull this off?

She crossed the street slowly, deep in thought. "Think, Milla, think." She gulped at her own words. _Fuck, did I just say–?_

"Hey, watch where you're going!"

The loud honking of a car startled her from her thoughts and she jumped visibly – a second ago a hair's breath away from being rammed by the bumper of a large SUV.

No thank you.

Panting, she reached the safety of the pavement again. Her suitcase swung next to her.

Erik Lensherr wasn't an American name! It hit her like a thunderclap. After straightening her spine and dusting her clothes off a little, she raised her chin looking up at the sky.

Yes, rambling was something she did very often. She was good at it.

Anyways, she knew precisely where she had to go.

She mumbled something to herself. Then, she raised and eyebrow. Worth a shot, she decided.

A small smile graced her mouth and _Spei_ (Hope) winked at her.

* * *

><p>Milla Petterson.<p>

The whole bus ride to Woodward Avenue she couldn't get those two simple words out of her head. Like a freaking broke tape recorder they rewound over and over again.

Milla Petterson. M-milla Pett–Petterson. Milla-Milla. Petterson-son-son. Milla–

And the worst part was, the robotic, cold voice sounded like her mother's.

_My real name._

_Milla. _

_Who am I, mother? Or better yet: who am I to you?_

She was afraid she would never find the answer.

She quickly shrugged it off. The word-vomit was already rising in her throat.

Success takes time, so the fact the trip cost her more than three hours wasn't that big of a deal. Besides, she had all the time in the world. On the other hand, They only became louder when she had nothing to do but think, which meant one fucker of a headache for at least a couple of hours.

Still, she had to admit, she'd done rather well, considering the circumstances (her little quarrel with _Ira _when she left _Domus _(home) hadn't been forgotten and she still couldn't believe she had beaten It).

She couldn't help but feel a little proud of herself.

The deaf blind man will walk again.

When she hopped off the vehicle, she came eye to eye with the city of Detroit for the very first time. She had never seen much more of the Americas than the countryside of Michigan State, so this change of scenery was refreshing.

The high skyscrapers in the distance were a beautiful sight, but she still preferred the emptiness of the mountains and the purity of nature untouched by human hands.

It was much colder here. She could feel it on her skin and the sun seemed less warm and welcoming as well. Or maybe that had something to do with the fact the sun was setting.

The people were ruder, the streets filthier and–

_Oh, quit the whining already! _

Liv sighed, zipping her jacket up all the way and then swinging her backpack over her shoulder.

Even though it was way past diner time by now (8:09 to be exact) – and her stomach was rumbling like crazy – she didn't give herself the privilege to have something decent to eat just yet. She had plans. Important ones.

So a chocolate bar had to do for now.

And while she was munching another one of those unhealthy things down, she continued her way.

If she was to be compared to a smoker, she was sure chocolate would be her nicotine.

Addiction was a naughty thing indeed.

It was her sixth that day, but quite frankly she didn't care much. _Desiderium_ (Regret) was a fucking pain in the ass. But not right now. No… nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to ruin her mood.

For some vague reason she decided to put one of her hands inside her pocket.

Big mistake.

There were a few twenty dollar bills inside (savings she had taken from her piggy bank right before she left), a pack of gum, more empty candy wrappers and then:

Her fingertips glided over something cool and smooth and she took a hold of the item slowly.

She paused for a moment, which was rather convenient as the traffic-light for the zebra crossing flashed red.

More pedestrians lined up next to her and they waited patiently.

Liv took the cell phone out and flipped it open steadily.

_14 missed calls, _it read on the tiny screen.

A knot twisted itself in her belly.

'Gina had rung her and she had also send half a dozen text messages. Instantaneously, trance-like, her finger went to the dial button.

_Don't It dare– Ira_ said in a whisper.

He read her thoughts and she turned her head to the side, looking down at the king cobra slithering near her feet.

"But I just–"

_Didn't I dismiss It?_

The _Regia_ wasn't a prison and although Liv had never been in there – she wasn't _allowed_ – she knew the Sensi only went there on three occasions: One– when They wanted rest, privacy or sleep. Two– when They had some sort of complaint to submit to the _Furor_. Three– and this one was different from the others, if Liv had discharged Them for whatever reason. It depended on the level of strictness in her voice how long They would stay away.

Now, Liv guessed she hadn't been firm enough. And this was becoming more and more of a problem lately.

As he shook his snake-shaped skull, his split tongue slipped out a few times. _Wasn't It Angry at the Meretrix?_

A gasp left her mouth at the abusive term. 'Gina was not a 'Prostitute'! She frowned and glared at the _Optione_, her second in command.

_Ira_ grew and his eyes began to blaze. And Liv's own lack of control was the cause.

The Snake hissed more at her and then lifted Its head while the hood attached the Its neck spread in a very intimidating way.

Liv knew that face_: Try to deny me,_ it said.

Even though she was Afraid like hell, she remembered something suddenly. Something that made tremors of pure Horror go done her spine.

So her response was to no surprise a complete shock to _Ira_.

"You're not real."

Thunder struck out of the blue and made the impact those simple words had that much greater.

When _Ira_ didn't react immediately, Liv added boldly, "Go away." Her voice was passive and bored even but still firm. "Go away."

_Why else could nobody else see It?_

It was about to rain.

And Liv was close to bursting all together.

After narrowing Its eyes, It, too, did something unexpected. It laughed. Sharp, mean and loud. _Its insolence shall cost It._

Then, the _Sensus_ of Anger was gone.

Liv was stunned for minutes, unable to move, let alone speak. It was when somebody bumped into her that she snapped from her daze and woke up.

_That was just too easy._

"I did it." She grinned slightly, "I told It to go away and I succeeded." Her words made the woman next to her on the pavement give her a quizzical look.

But what Liv didn't know was that _Ira_ had returned to the _Regia_ (Palace) with bloody murder on Its mind. The _Furor_ would discover sooner or later.

And the unmovable Centurion shook Its head while the rain was in coming.

The light turned green.

* * *

><p>"I'm going to find her, Omar." Georgina said, putting on her shoes inside the hall while her husband stood in the door opening to the living room, "She isn't answering any of my calls and God knows what will happen to her if we let her wander the streets alone at night." The sun was already starting to set and with that her worries had grown.<p>

Omar rolled his eyes. "This isn't the first time she ran away, 'Gine. She'll come back, just like the last _four_ times." He emphasized the word 'four' in a disgusted tone.

"This is different. I don't know why but I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that it won't be okay." She pulled her jacket on and opened the front door, "Are you coming?"

The man pursed his lips and shook his head, "You go. I'll stay here in case she comes to her goddamn senses and comes home."

'Gina looked at him for a moment with a blank expression. He avoided her gaze.

"Alright." She whispered, sounding defeated, "I'll go by myself." After turning around again, she stepped outside. Her long hair swept around her as she threw over her shoulder: "Call the police if I'm not back in an hour."

Omar nodded, smiling a little droopily.

"Supper's in the microwave." She got into the silver vehicle parked in the driveway, "Make sure Christian gets to bed early; he's got a big game tomorrow." The car shut with a bang and she drove off quickly. He waved until she had turned the corner and he could no longer see her.

A stoic, kind of bothered, look graced his features. _She cares more than the brat deserves. _

And their relationship was suffering because of it. Damn, from the moment they had taken the Swede in she had caused a certain tension in the house. Omar couldn't put his finger on it. He was sure the other members of his family felt it too. Right away, the kids had disliked her for some unknown reason and Georgina had turned into some overprotective monster that would always – and _always _choose the mentally retarded child's side.

Another, not so very minor, reason for 'Gina and his constant arguing was… his anger management problems. He just couldn't control himself when he was around that girl. As if something evil penetrated his mind and polluted him.

Jealousy, Frustration and Depression were the main Ones. But Anger and then Rage were the absolute nastiest.

Omar didn't know how to describe it but the slightest thing could make him yell or snap or _worse_.

Fucking mess this was. He was glad she was gone. The peace would definitely return now.

He closed the door slowly, returning to the baseball game that was being broadcast on the television.

Georgina had a hunch where Liv had gone to, _hold on, honey, I'm coming for you. Don't you worry._ She ignored red lights and sped through the streets like a maniac.

The note with the strange words on it was still fresh in her mind. She had no idea what they meant or what kind of language they were in, which frustrated her. Liv was an extraordinary child, she knew that, but now her eccentricity was starting to scare her.

What if the words said she wanted to commit suicide? She couldn't bear the thought alone.

Somehow she felt responsible for the girl's despair. She had been assigned to look after her well-being and obviously she had failed. Miserably. She would never forgive herself if something happened to her.

The car accelerated even more and the scenery outside flashed by at an incredible speed.

Georgina was high on adrenaline as she sped through the serene neighborhood.

She stopped at several locations, but she didn't find the red-haired teenager she was looking for.

She checked her school, and the schoolyard; the local playground with swings and a climbing rack, where 'Gina remembered Liv sitting when she wanted to be alone; then, the mall in the main centre. And finally, Katelyn Williams' house, the only girl that Liv had spoken positively of – or spoken of _at all_.

She left when the girl had shaken her head and told her she hadn't seen her.

Now, she was lost; she had no idea where to search next. She looked around her, hopeless, desperately praying Liv's freckled-face would pop up from behind a bush, tree or car.

No such luck.

After standing on the sidewalk for another ten minutes, she decided to head home and call the police. It was no use to be standing around here. After two hours off restless searching, she was tired. Besides, it was already getting dark.

With a sigh, she returned to the car.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, God, kill me now.<em>

Apparently, Liv's dismissal of _Ira _had caused all of the _Sensi_ to go berserk. Probably due to the fact she had denied Their being. Wrong move on her part.

They were so caught up in fighting and yelling at each other, they had completely forgotten about her. Especially the _Furor_ was more angry than ever.

_Ira_ was a snake above all and snakes had a tendency of betraying others if it benefited them.

Their absence left Liv alone with _Solitudo_, who had never been a very talkative companion; she felt hollow and strange inside, as if the body her mind was in wasn't actually hers at all. Or perhaps that something was crawling underneath her skin – like a million little bugs that made her feel tingly. She smiled lightly at the thought and noticed the buzz was already getting more familiar. Then again, that meant it was almost time.

The conflict took place behind the walls of the _Regia_, which meant she was safe, but somehow that only unnerved her more.

In an attempt to hide from the world, she had pulled the hood of her jacket over her head. The dark fabric was made out of a thin cotton, with several pockets and buttons sewn onto it.

Although it was late May, cold started to crawl into her muscles. Chilly shivers went down her spine every now and then, which had nothing to do with the weather outside.

The suitcase was clutched in her right hand – covered in multi-colored stickers – and her grip was unnaturally tight, holding on to the bag with bizarre intensity and desperation.

She picked up her pace, walking faster with her head bend forward in a defeated manner. Her eyes were hidden by the hood covering her ginger-colored hair and they stared off into space, letting _Realtà_, as good and bad as it came, fly past her in a mix of blurred images, rustling sounds and other sensations that seemed foreign to her senses.

She had no idea how long she had been walking or where she was going exactly, but the cramps in her legs and feet told her it was a damn long time.

Now that her mind was so empty – and she didn't have to argue with Anyone – her dream from the night before came to life again.

(Instantly, she understood that the presence of the _Sensi_ had more significance than she originally had thought. That welcome distraction was denied right now.)

And although she was desperately trying to push the memory away, she recalled a certain event that had taken place a little over two years ago, she guessed, and it edged to the front of her mind again at a purposely slow pace: the dreadful day that changed her life forever.

It had been an accident. One not even caused by her. The fire; the smoke; the stench of blazing wood, it was all still too fresh, too real. She could taste the awfulness on the tip of her tongue. An essence so bitter and vile, it burned her insides, literally.

She had gotten away with a nasty burn mark; her family hadn't been so lucky. The thought alone made her heart ache in such a way it became hard to breath, and _Tristitia_ and _Moeror_ (the _Sensus_ of Grief; underrated and misinterpreted by Liv, she figured so much) would stab her with a million razor-sharp knives, bringing tears to her eyes. The barely healed wounds of old were reopened with painful, bone-crushing force; flesh split apart and tendons tore.

How inevitable this process always seemed, recently it had stopped taking her by surprise. She knew when it would come and the exact strength of the blow. That way she could prepare herself, mentally as well as physically. It wasn't all that difficult, or even aggravating. It was just raw; the hurt was tender like it happened yesterday.

Dr. Hill had told her once in one of their sessions together that her inability to accept her loss had caused her to become so foreign to the world. (She had read in his eyes: mentally retarded.) He had called it 'consequentialism', where one event leads to another, directly or indirectly. But this wasn't about cause and effect or defining the problem, for that matter. It was about _solving_ it, which, quite frankly, he couldn't give a damn about.

_I was just pure amusement to him, _his haughty flashed before her eyes every time 'they had a breakthrough', to use his own words, –_entertainment on which he could test his own psychiatrist skills._

But his judgment or analysis of her and her 'illness' were of little importance, because he couldn't help her anyways, even if he had wanted to. (He had no idea about the _Sensi_; she could and never would tell him about Them.)

Her absolute loyalty was somewhat strange as They had taken over her life, or better yet, _destroyed_ it. And she was sick of it; she was sick of undergoing the same thing over and over again: the Pain, the Suffering, the Anger, the Grief… But still, the part of her that held some sort of humanity reasoned that by telling an outsider about the wars being fought inside her head, she would awaken a whole new evil. One that was unbeatable. And the _Sensi_ weren't.

Her thoughts drifted to her mother. A woman traumatized to the bone. Estranged from time and lost to space. It should not have–

_Enough is enough. _

Slowly, steadily, she pushed it away, forcing it back in its place; locked behind bars.

The only downside to this disconnection of her own memories and feelings was that the _Sensi_ active in other humans, the _Alia_ (the others), pulled and pushed at her until madness triumphed over sanity. This didn't happen very often though and only in crowded, overpowering areas like schools, shopping malls and runway stations . (The first time this had happened she was only twelve years old and the damage had been done, permanently. A memory of being strapped to a bed while she struggled for freedom.) She suddenly longed to be drowned in that haze of red, yellow, blue and everything in between, as the unrestrained, unlimited and merciless Emotions would enter her senses that she could no longer resist.

Yeah, that's how she saw the world of Feeling: a thousand of different-painted shapes, like clouds jumbled together in a thick mist.

Her eyes mostly identified the diverse _Sensi_ and differentiated Them into separate enclosures. Yet the enclosures were fragile and the boundaries were vague and crossed easily. The colors mixed in that case as her control slipped away gradually. Disoriented and confused, she fled from the Conflict.

_Weak_, _Ira_ said to her in between conversations and thoughts, _you bring shame to Us, Centurion. To all of Us. _

The thought alone of such a cowardly deed made the Snake's stomach turn.

Quickly, she retreated behind the mirror, separating herself from _Realt_ and finding refugee in _Salvus_. No more memories and no more Feelings.

_Yes_, she told herself, _I can't possibly sink any deeper than this._

As in a robotic mode she watched the _Alia _walk by her over the sidewalk. Slow-motion could be a way to describe how she witnessed the world in that moment. Movement was tardy; any type of motion smudged up to the point where there was no distinctive line of division. The noises echoed in her ears, but only softly, as if coming from afar. And Feeling of touch, including heat, cold, pain and comfort, was shut down.

According to Plato the body was only imprisoning the immortal soul. Nothing more, nothing less. Therefore it could become free from its confinement and that was exactly what Liv was trying to accomplish; 'trying' being the keyword. With a lot of self-discipline, concentration and practice she was able to shut all external influences out and focus as much as she could on, for example, the horses in the grasslands, the snowy hills of _Suécia _or even something as simple as her sister's smiling face. It was what made her calm, but now that didn't seem to work.

Redemption seemed so hopelessly out of reach. And was in fact a hair's breath away.

She simply couldn't concentrate with all the clamor of hundreds of footsteps; the ongoing chattering that bounced of f the high buildings. And, of course, the thunder that rumbled above her as dark clouds collided with each other.

It would've been logical for her to stay away from places like this, to prevent the _Sensi_ of the _Alia_ to penetrate her skull and take over her mind; her senses; her will. Yet she came there because of this exact reason: to _let_ the Emotions overflow her, the colors, and to get a ducking. Deserved. It was extremely risky, not only for herself, but the humans too.

It didn't make any sense, but, on the other hand, it didn't need to, with her. Acting on pure instinct was something she had become familiar with the past few months. In fact, she had mastered it to the bone, which wasn't always a good thing. It left her more delicate, less basic needs to fall into the background, leaving only Anger, Sadness and Fear, among others, to take the upper hand.

In a nutshell: she wanted to Feel the Disgust, the Ecstasy, the Shame, the Worry, the Angst, the Awe the _Alia_ carried with them; hell, even the Hatred, the Disappointment and the Dread – just to forget her own for a minute. But above all she longed to experience the Desire, the Affection and the Love.

She hadn't seen the_ Amor _in a very long time. And she had given up on Their relationship. She hoped with every fiber of her being that it was just temporarily – that it wouldn't last forever.

The two white birds would flock together once again. But for now…

_Culpa_ poked her suddenly, on the shoulder. That wasn't true. The _Sensi_ of Guilt was right. 'Gina had showed her what is was like to be loved. Or, at least, to some extent.

Unfortunately, the Feeling wasn't mutual. Even though her adoptive mother had given her so much, she just– somehow, somewhere _couldn't_–

Her lips trembled; eyelids fluttering shut.

_The horses, _she thought, changing the subject,_ think about the horses. In the pastures. Galloping. Manes at war with the passing breeze._

It wasn't working_. Damnit!_

Liv suddenly realized that this wasn't the way to solve this and _Ira_ was right. She had to focus and stop pushing the problem away.

Deep breath. _High grass._ Deep breath. _Snow, falling._ Deep breath. _And frozen water droplets._

The mantra kept repeating and repeating itself inside her head.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

She matched the words with the sound of her footsteps.

_Oh, my, what a sight, Verecundia _(Shame) whispered as one by one the Demons returned from the Palace, _what a shameful sight..._

Her previous victory as Centurion was forgotten apparently.

She passed a restaurant and shot a fleeting look through the large windows at the tables full of delicious cuisines.

Shit, this wasn't helping her hunger one bit. And neither were the groups of threatening grey clouds above. Not to mention, the happy, smiling faces of the people having diner.

She could already hear the _Sensus_ of Jealousy calling out to her from afar. _Tsss–tsss, how cruel, neh?_

Liv tore her eyes away and _Tristitia_ was starting to build up in her line of sight. _They don't care, so why should You? _She was probably the only one that treated her like an equal. By calling Liv 'You', instead of 'It'. On top of that, _Tristitia_ didn't disapprove using the _Alia _as a diversion.

She wiped the tears away angrily with her fist, quickly entering an alleyway to her left.

_No, I'm stronger than this, _she told_ Tristitia, I don't need Them, nor You._

It was only a matter of minutes before it would be completely dark and it wasn't until now that Liv noticed how scary the outside world was, especially now that she had refuted the existence of the _Sensi_.

They had been, for a long time, her only source of recognition to anything earthly and now that was slowly slipping away too.

As if out of their own accord, her legs began to run. No, it wasn't running. It was sprinting. And fleeing yet again from the Problem.

Her suitcase dangled dangerously with her wild and uncontrolled movements and her heart rate picked up greatly in those ten seconds.

The hard ground was covered in pools of water here and there and made splattering noises when her feet collided with them. The sound echoed in her ears.

Splash! Splash!

A rumbling laughter sounded. _You need Us, Centurion. Just like We need It. Whether It likes it or not. _This was the collective voice of the_ Sensi._

_No, I don't–_

_Liar! Liar! Ira _accused. It was back and with an army of _Sensi_ Liv had never seen before.

_What is It doing now? _It was _Frustratio_.

_No wonder_, Liv thought, _He out of all Sensi should be here._

A few garbage cans came into view.

And Liv seriously thought this was the moment she would lose her sanity all together.

Then, without a warning, it became quiet and only the soughing remained.

Too late for _Salvus_ now.

_What are It running from?_ A voice boomed above everything else, threatening as the dark clouds, _Its Duty?_

_He_ made her come to a halt as the Others retreated slowly.

The _Furor_…

"No, please–" She begged shamelessly. "I _am_–!"

("–not so tough now, are ya?" Struggling sounded along with heavy breathing and more yelling.)

Her back connected with the wall to her right all of the sudden and she gasped at the harshness of the stone.

_Stay put, Centurion, and just for once do as Its commanded._

Liv's eyes were wide with pure terror and she clamped her own hand over her mouth to stop any shrieks or cries from escaping her throat.

(Loud laughter. "This freakshow is nothing without _this_ little thing," – Liv guessed some sort of object – "You're gonna pay for hurting our friend like that.")

She hunched up with every punch and kick that vibrated through the air, arms around her quivering torso.

There were at least three of them.

_Metu_ came to her comfort instantly and she felt his familiar embrace around her.

_Solitudo_ and _Curae_ watched quietly while _Ira_ and the _Furor_ shared heated words.

Stifled grunts and groans of Pain rang in her mind and she couldn't help _Misericodria_'s arrival.

_For fuck's sake! Don't Feel Pity for some random Alia!_

Some kid was getting beat up. So what?

("Perhaps we should–?" The sound of a lighter flipping open. "Oeh, who's the big, scary mutant now?" More physical abuse and then laughter. Incredibly annoying laughter.)

_Figures._

Liv smelled smoke.

But what if they'll hurt him really badly? Why won't he give them what they want? Liv looked up. Nothing is worth so much Suffering, not even–

No, she was mistaken. His Pride was all he had left now and he would not let those animals take it from him.

How very impressive.

Suddenly, she noticed more than twenty pairs of grey were staring straight at her with an intensity she had only witnessed once before.

Erik Lensherr.

Over a dozen posters were hanging right in front of her, lined up perfectly, but still ruptured and crinkled in places, especially around the edges.

Her breathing calmed immediately and her face pale and blank.

"Don't look at me like that." She whispered.

_Fucking coward, Ira _hissed with much self-restrain.

Lightheadedness made her eyes close for a moment but they snapped open again when an excruciating cry boomed through the air. Her ears were muted now and in slow-motion the narrow alley lit up entirely in an orange-heated glow.

Inferno…

She could see the flames move in a majestic, torturous dance that – she presumed – would blow all bystanders off their feet. The Pain spread through her but the beauty and warmth it radiated also had its impact on her senses.

But then she thought of her dream and the same fire that had destroyed her home and had ripped her family apart. And it was as if she were a little kid again. Absolutely Terrified.

The sudden explosion had even made the _Sensi_ speechless, which said _a lot_.

And although the burning lasted for no more than five seconds, the desired effect was done.

Groans and whimpers of hurt and discomfort came from the victims' burned mouths and she was sure at least one of them had actually entered the afterlife.

"_I _am the big, scary mutant, you fuckwit." The voice was hoarse and filled with the superlative of hatred. Liv flinched at it and her arms were still covering her head.

"No… dude… please–" The beseeching was pathetic and caused a cruel smirk to form on the 'freakshows' lips. "I'm sorry, man– ahhh– please just-just don't hurt me…" He tried to crawl away.

More fire appeared suddenly.

And then there was silence.

The guy coughed and spit to the ground distastefully, ridding his mouth of blood. He mumbled something very offensive under his breath while giving the body on the ground a slight push with his foot.

"I told you not to mess with me." He growled, "Too bad you're as stupid as you are ugly."

The first droplets started to fall down from the sky when he bent over and retrieved his lighter from the smoldered hand in which it was clasped. He did it with little care but tried to avoid as much physical contact as possible.

But then, when he put a cigarette between his lips and moved to lit it with the small flame from his zippo, a soft howling noise reached his ears. His eyes narrowed immediately and he looked in the direction of the sound.

Fuck, if someone saw him…

It seemed like a dog who was whining in distress and suddenly mentioned animal appeared from behind a trashcan.

Liv – who was secretly wishing she had never came to Detroit in the first place – was rocking back and forth in a fetus position, her arms wrapped around her tightly.

_Depressus_'s tail was tugged between His legs timidly as He looked at the Fighter with scared, big eyes.

Relief washed over the person meters away from Liv but it soon made place for confusion.

The Dog became silent as he came closer.

_That ain't no ordinary dog, _he thought_, it's freaking see-through._

It reeked of mutant.

It was seconds later that Liv felt the Fighter's burning gaze on her.

Red. In all kinds of shapes. Behind her closes eyelids. Lovely, really. Scary and unpredictable at the same time. The latter was strong but his colors were so beautiful; she had to see.

_Curiositas_'s thousand shining eyes were filled with sparkling lights as He spurred her on, _Go on._

Liv slowly raised her head and watched him from underneath her eyebrows, fascinated and quiet.

His breathing was heavy and when he noticed her, his voice was as critical as the bruises on his face. "_Fuck_…" And he held the cigarette in his hand.

He was just a kid, like her. Not older than eighteen.

Brown eyes.

She had stopped shivering for some reason – even though the rain was drenching her hair and clothes – but the Fear never went away. It intensified when she stared right back into those brown eyes.

_Smile at me,_ she thought but could not say, _make the Demons go away._ _I want to see you smile so I know you won't harm me._

But the Fighter never smiled. Instead, he cursed some more, kicked his foot at a plastic bag laying on the ground and rubbed a heavy hand over his face.

_Shit, she saw everything. What am I gonna do now?_

Submission was near, Liv understood as much: The sun was about to set. Just because of this fact alone she wanted her last moments before _Interbellum_ to be peaceful.

The silence before the storm.

He wasn't seriously thinking about killing her, was he? On the other hand, why wouldn't he? Obviously he had done this kind of immoral thing before, so why not now? Liv had lost most of her trust in mankind long ago but his Colors begged the differ.

The _Pugnator_ wouldn't hurt her, otherwise the _Sensi_ would've interfered already… right?

The double doors of the _Regia _were wide open but Liv didn't know if They were preparing for battle inside or not.

The _Furor_ hadn't announced the Attack yet, so what was He waiting for? A written invitation? Still, the _Imperator _could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. His troops were to comply.

But _Interbellum_–

was postponed.

Now out of all times He decided to Punish her, and Punish her good. For disobeying orders. Normally she dreaded _Interbellum_ more than anything, but right now it seemed like a good distraction. Denied, of course.

And before she knew it, she could no longer breath and darkness took her eyes.

And when the last light had disappeared into the ocean, a loud thunderclap boomed through the city, right after a flash of white.

* * *

><p>Down in the suburban, Omar was looking down at the letters in his hands. There were at least half a dozen of them. His face was screwed up in something between resentment and doubt.<p>

The address on the front of the envelops read _Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters_ in a fancy handwriting.

The air was filled with build-up frustration.

_Always, _he thought, _always, she _had_ to stand out._

Georgina hadn't returned home yet which kind of worried him. She had missed dinner and both Chris and Emily had asked where she was. "Looking for Liv," he had answered. Not for their 'sister'. Hell no.

But still his wife would treat her that way. She was too good a person in his eyes. Then again, he knew he would have done the same thing if he were in her shoes. Taking in the daughter of your best friend when she was incapable of being the mother she should be is self-evident.

He decided not to dwell on 'Gina's temporarily absence any longer and just wait it out.

As he was deep in thought he didn't notice the first time the doorbell rang. Scratching the back of his head, he suddenly snapped out of his daze. The bell went for the second time and he made his way to the hall, crossing the living room and causing the dog to lift its head curiously.

"Who the hell could that be?" He muttered a little irritated and, with the envelops still in his left hand, he swung the door open. An apathetic look on his face.

"Yes, can I help you?" Omar said as he lay eyes on the two people standing on his threshold.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay i seriously don't have a real excuse as to why i haven't updated this in 5 months besides stupid writer's block... I do apologize. Now that that's out of the way i'd like to ask you readers something: would you like this fic to become more mature? Where i change the rating and add more mature themes and scenes? I am thinking about this but don't know for sure. I've never written an 'adult'-labeled fic before. Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading and i promise the next update won't take 5 months.**


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